Here's Your Accordion
by drakensis
Summary: No one chooses to be the Vampire Slayer. But what if someone found out that they were the Slayer? And not just any Slayer. What if someone... some fan... woke up as Buffy Summers, the Vampire Slayer? Welcome to Sunnydale.
1. Welcome to the Hellmouth

In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand against the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. She is the Slayer.

.oOo.

I woke with a start, the images of caves and graves and vampires still vivid in my mind. "Last time I stay up late watching…" I began what was intended as a lie to my conscience and was probably all too much of a temptation to fate.

"Buffy?" called a familiar voice.

"Yeah, that," I whispered, taking in the unfamiliar room. Except that it wasn't really unfamiliar, although I'd never seen it from this perspective before. It was very white, and most of the contents were cardboard boxes.

And my voice was not my own, not the soft growl I had spoken with for more than a decade. It was a girl's voice, high and clear.

"Buffy?" came the call again. I knew that voice and when I looked down the body in the silky white pyjamas I was wearing was familiar but not my own.

There were footsteps and then Joyce Summers opened the bedroom door and looked right at me. "Time to get up, honey," she told me. "Don't wanna be late for your first day."

I swallowed and then squared my shoulders. "No," I agreed. "Wouldn't want that."

.oOo.

An hour later, driving (being driven actually) through the Sunnydale suburbs, I was barely less confused.

I was… Buffy Summers? In spring, 1997?

To draw on the immortal 'Troy in 15 Minutes' – OMG WTF!?

Pinching and cold water didn't wake me so I was guessing that this was not a dream. And in the other direction a pretty decent breakfast hadn't nursed me into a nicer dream. Hey I tried on a pair of heels from the wardrobe and clicked my heels three times whispering "there's no place like home". Nada.

Not that I don't enjoy Buffy. Hey, twenty-six year old geek here. Hot teenage babes get a certain amount of attention from me. But _being_ a sixteen year old _girl_? Fighting vampires myself? (And missing Mr Happy in favour of a rather nice rack? Not a happy me right now. Ramping right up to 'Stop the World I Want to Get Off'.

But that wasn't the option. Welcome to the Hellmouth, MISS Summers, here's your accordion.

So I get to start right from the bottom. It's not too hard to figure out where I am in the series. First day, first episode and there's a human body in someone's locker already.

Dawn's here by the way. Don't know how – time frame is completely wrong, but we stopped at Sunnydale Elementary to drop her off there. She's in Fifth Grade so the age gap is right as far as I can tell – she didn't like it when I guessed her grade wrong but I'm pretty sure she thought I was joking – in a nasty older sister fashion. So naturally I apologised and she concluded that her sister had been replaced with an impostor. I really hope she's joking or I don't have the deception skills to carry this off.

So, situation evaluation time:

Slayer strength (tested on one of the unloaded cardboard boxes)? Check.

No Slayerettes (yet anyway)? Check.

Giles at his most Wesley-like? Probably.

Demons to the left of me, High School to the right of me. I gotta get a new job.

High School to the right? Oh yeah, here we are.

"Okay," Joyce's says perkily as I get out of the Jeep. "Have a good time. I know you're gonna make friends right away, just think positive." She even gave me a thumbs up. I think I like her. Hey, I'm not some moody teenager, I like to think I have some idea what a good parent is worth. And their weight in gold doesn't even begin to cover it. So I smiled back.

"And honey?" I pause and look back. I can't help it, I just know I've got that devilish glint in my eye, that one that is nothing like mopey Buffy (or any Buffy) has in her eyes.

"Try not to get kicked out?" Joyce asks somewhat plaintively.

I can't help it, I climb back into the car and give her a hug. I don't care how uncool it is. "Love ya, Mom," I whisper.

"Oh Buffy…" she whispers back and returns the hug.

"Be seeing you," I tell her, and bound out of the car, heading for the steps. One good deed for the day, yay me.

My good mood lasted almost ten seconds before I ploughed into Xander, who'd been about to get off his skateboard. I guess since I'd been in the Jeep earlier, he'd not been distracted as would otherwise have been the case. Adding my momentum put him into the rails anyway, and I managed to stagger in a half-circle and sit on him.

Ooopsie.

"Xander!" came a call of concern.

"Did anyone get the number of the Bus that's sitting on me?" asked my impromptu seat, rather breathlessly.

I caught hold of the railing and lifted myself up, sparing him the rather less than crushing weight – Buffy might weigh half what I'm used to weighing, when she's soaking wet. "Not a Bus, a Buffy," I said mildly. "I'm sorry, I really should have been looking where I was going."

"Are you okay, Xander?" asked the red-haired girl – Willow, more or less on schedule – coming closer and smiling down at him. Nice smile, pity about the clothes. Looks like her Mom dresses her – for a five-year-old's tea party. I'm not exactly Mr. – Ms. Fashion-Conscious, unless Buffy's infecting me I suppose, and even _I_ would feel justified in demanding she receive an emergency makeover. And I mean NOW.

"I'm okay, I feel good," Xander says and takes my proffered hand of assistance. "Xander. Is, is me. Hi."

Oh good, an introduction. "Hi, I'm Buffy Summers," I answer brightly and pull him easily to his feet. "Upseydaisy." And that gets an impressed reaction from him – I don't think he expected to be hauled up so readily. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Um, yeah. I don't know you, do I?"

"No, I'm new. Kind of potentially lost and not looking where I was going." Pause. "You can let go of my hand now?"

"Hand? Oh that hand, sorry," he babbles. Amusing and annoying at the same time. What's gotten to him. I mean, yeah, this is how he reacted to the real Buffy, but she turned up in a mini-skirt and a tight top – I'm dressed a bit more conservatively.

I raise an eyebrow, hopefully indicating amusement, and turn to Willow. "Hi."

"H-hi!"

Obviously I'm going to be carrying quite a bit of this conversation. "Is he always like this or did he hit his head? 'Cause, you know – nurses station?"

"N-no, Xander's alright." Oh I really don't think that she likes the idea of me taking Xander to the nurse's station.

"Well, okay. I guess I'll see you both around." I shoot a grin at them and head for the school doors, taking a bit more care not to hit anyone on the way. I'm certainly not in a _hurry_ to get to the Principal's office.

.oOo.

Well, I suppose I should be relieved that I'm not dealing with Principal Snyder here.

No, that's not true. I would a thousand times rather be dealing with Snyder than Flutie. I know, I'm a freak.

Snyder would be all vitriol at this point, but he'd be up front about it. Flutie… yeesh. No backbone, no dignity, no sincerity… no wonder the American school system is such a disaster.

"Buffy Summers… sophomore, late of Hemery High is Los Angeles," he says as he walks around his desk to sit facing me. Yeah yeah, tell me something I don't know. "Interesting record… quite a… career…"

I suppose that that should properly intimidate me. Sitting nervously as a supplicant before the desk of the Principal. Not really me. I've done job interviews, I've given people bad news. One lousy high school bureaucrat barely registers on the radar when it comes to anxiety.

"I don't know if I'd use the word career, Mr Flutie," I say politely as he raises the document, preparing I suppose to tear it up as 'dramatically' as he does in the original episode.

"All the kids here are free to call me Bob," he reels off, as he doubtless has done a thousand times before.

I give him a slightly sceptical look.

"But they don't."

"Mr Flutie, a career is something you spend a life on. I really don't want to spend the rest of my life the same way I did at Hemery – I mean, I would like to graduate in a couple of years," I joke to him with a smile. He smiles back and it looks a bit more genuine than his previous nervous fidgeting. Amazing. Maybe I misjudged him. A little.

"I know my record is a long way from exemplary, Mr Flutie. And I know I've got a lot of work ahead of me – all I'm asking is for the chance to show you that I've learned from the mistakes in there" I point at the transcripts "and that I can do better."

"I'm sure you can, Buffy," he tells me. "A clean slate, that's what you get here. What's past is past, we're not interested in what it says on a piece of paper, even if it says…" He glances down at the file. Damn, I'd been hoping to postpone that little revelation. "Whoa."

"As I said, a long way from exemplary," I remind him dryly.

"You burned down the gym."

There's not really anything to say to that. Buffy did burn down the gym, and she either didn't deny it at all or she got caught. I don't remember the movie that well so I can't afford to claim it was an accident or put up a defence – I don't know enough to be credible.

"Why don't you take a few minutes to read through the file, Mr Flutie," I suggest, trying to project an air of patience. "Make sure you know what all the issues are, before you say anything you don't want to.

"Buffy, any other school the might say 'watch your step' or 'we'll be watching you'… but that's just not the way _here_ -"

"It's not?" I ask in feigned surprise. "Isn't that a little… duplicitous?"

"I don't think duplicitous is the word, Buffy." Of course not, he'd have to consult a dictionary first, to see what it means.

"Well, faced with my record those would pretty much have to be your sentiments, Mr Flutie. I understand that… it would be irresponsible for you not to keep an eye out for any signs of that sort of behaviour." Another smile, damn this is straining my repertoire. "Doesn't it make more sense to say that outright?"

"Well, I suppose…"

"All I'm hoping for is an open mind. Let me prove that what's in my file is in the past."

.oOo.

Well the interview with the Flutie went fairly well. 'Marginally better than it would have gone originally', was my summation. Not so much in terms of outcome but I think I made a slightly better impression. Might make a difference, might not. Talking to people is such a pain.

Class is ever so slightly better. The topic is 'The Black Death' which I never actually studied at school, so it's no more boring for me than the teacher is making it.

Of course, I might learn a bit more if I had the textbook she's referring to. Knowing that the map is on page sixty-three doesn't exactly help in that case. An awful lot of Europe is north of Rome. Fortunately the brunette sat next to me had the book open and leant it to let be catch a glimpse. Interesting – but not half as much as recognising her was. Cordelia Chase.

Well now, if things unfolded as planned this young lady had a big future ahead of her – glove puppet to some rogue Power – Jasmine? Something like that (I watched more Buffy than Angel, are you going to sue me?) Right now she was a – perhaps THE – big fish in the pond of school society. Smart enough to keep the harpies under firm control, but not inclined to actually change the patterns set down by previous generations of high school students.

So she could be a problem, or an asset. Or, a bit of both. "Thanks," I tell her, with a nod towards the book.

The bell rang then and class began to flee the dread chamber of learning for their brief respite before the next class.

"Hi! I'm Cordelia," my textbook-lender introduces herself, holding out her hand.

"Buffy Summers," I reply, taking her hand and shaking it briefly. "Pleased to meet you."

"If you're looking for a textbook of your very own, there's probably a few in the library," she tells me, tucking the volume in question away in her bag.

I can feel the corner of my lips twitch in my usual sardonic style as I stand up. "A textbook of my very own? I dunno, that's a big responsibility..." Then I grin openly. "Thanks. Can you spare a poor city girl directions though? Don't know where the library is yet."

"I'll show you," Cordelia offers as we leave the classroom. "So you're from Hemery, right? In L.A.?"

"Yep."

"Oh, I would _kill_ to live in L.A. That close to that many shoes."

I can't help but laugh at that as we walk down the hall. L.A. may be a hellhole in my book (and I don't think there are really demons there in my world), but there's no denying that it's a good place to shop.

"Well," 'Queen' Cordelia advises me, "You'll be okay here. If you hang with me and mine, you'll be accepted in no time. Of course, we have to test your coolness factor." Oh boy. This should be tough. I've no idea what's cool in 1997... hell's bells, I've no idea what's cool in 2005! "You're from L.A.," she pronounces, "so you can skip the written."

"Why thank you," I interject with a sly note in my voice that nets me a suspicious look.

"Let's see," Cordelia muses. "Vamp nail polish?"

I give her an incredulous look – I refuse to believe that that was ever 'in' except with Goths. "You're joking, right?"

"So over," my interrogator concurs. "James Spader?"

Never heard of him. "History," I say flatly.

Her eyes narrow. "James Spader – history?" she demands incredulously.

I reply with a cool nod. For all I know he's some eternal teen idol, but I imagine there's a pretty fast turnover of suchlike, so I'll probably be right shortly if I'm not already.

"Frappaccinos?" she inquires.

Well I'd wager at least a little credibility that that's coffee. Which I don't drink. Bluff? Oh, why not? "Those, I will grant you," I answer with a slight note of approval.

Judging by the glare I'd guess that she's beginning to get upset. Amazing, a mediocre performance at best and she's buying it completely. The absolute last thing I need is to have the local queen-cow feeling threatened. So I need a diversion. And right then I see Willow over by the water fountain. Perfect target, except that would be cruel. Unless... yeah, that could work...

Cordelia's next question is cut off as I hold my focus on Willow for a moment and then shoot an amused look at my current companion. The need to see what caught my eye overwhelms her and she turns her head slightly to see Willow straighten up and look straight at us.

"Willow!" she calls, "Nice dress! Good to know you've seen the softer side of Sears."

The redhead looks a little flustered – I wonder if she realises how unflattering the dress is? "Uh, oh, well my mom picked it out."

"Is your friend okay?" I ask Willow, preventing what would probably be another verbal dagger embedded in the oblivious nerd by Cordelia.

"Friend?" she says, looking around as if someone had snuck up on her.

"That guy on the skateboard, Xander, right?" I ask. "He didn't need to go to the nurse or anything?"

"Oh!" Willow gasped in understanding. "No! Uh, he's alright."

"You've met Harris?" demands Cordelia.

I wink at Willow. "Ran into him on my way into the school."

Cordelia looks insulted. "You wanna fit in here, the first rule is: know your losers. I guess you've found your level," she sneers and marches off.

"Why would I want to fit in, Cordelia?" I ask her back, "When I can take over."

The stiffness in her back says that she heard me. And _damn_ but she's got a nice butt.

"So," I ask Willow casually, as if nothing's happened. "Could you point me in the direction of the library? I need to get some books."

.oOo.

The library. If I hadn't seen the show then I'd be quite impressed by the layout. The mezzanine level is particularly impressive although it doesn't look designed for students. What isn't noticeable is the librarian – the room looks quite deserted.

I advance into the room and glance around. The only thing out of place is a newspaper on the counter. Looking closer I notice that someone has circled a picture of three boys – three _missing_ boys from the caption. This being Sunnydale, I doubt they'll be turning up anytime soon. Well, unless the got turned. Now there's a happy thought.

I get the shock of my life when someone taps me on the shoulder and I whirl (with a squeak of surprise) to see a man in tweed stood behind me. Rupert Giles, the timid librarian/watcher. Oh the joy. "Can I help you?" he asks in a ridiculously prissy voice, looking down on me through his glasses. (Did I mention how bizarre it is to be Buffy-sized? I'm used to having another seven or eight inches of height).

"I'm looking for some books," I explain as I get my breathing under control. "I just started here today."

"Miss Summers?" he asks hesitantly.

"You look more like a Mister," I riposte immediately.

He frowns – either in annoyance or bafflement, I'm not sure. "I'm Mr. Giles. The librarian."

"Well I guess that that would make me Miss Summers then," I say. "Glad we've got that straightened out."

"I was told you were coming," Giles says, walking around the counter.

I nod. "I get that a lot. I guess Principal Flutie's been warning everyone about me. Anyway, I'm gonna need a couple of textbooks –"

"I know what you're after!" Giles interrupted me, pulling out a huge leather-bound book with the word 'VAMPYR' written on the front in gold leaf. I look down at it and then up at his grin, fixing a look of mild disbelief on my face and holding it long enough for his grin to slip.

"Well it's good to know you're being so discreet about this," I say blandly, giving the book a little nudge. "However, I really do need some textbooks before my next class. So if you would be so good...?" I make a dismissive gesture at the book and he moves it out of sight with an embarrassed look on his face.

"S-sorry, my mistake."

"Right then," I sigh. "I'm going to need 'Perspectives on the Twentieth Century'..."

.oOo.

Leaving Giles in the library with the vague promise that I would be back to talk later, the great tradition of lunchtime sent me out and looking for the one person rumour said could get me caught up with my classes: Willow Rosenberg. Fortunately I spotted her just unpacking her lunch from a brown paper bag. Looked just like the one that Joyce... Mom... had prepared for me and I made a mental note to prepare my own from now on.

"Hi Willow," I greet her.

She looked up, seeming rather upset at being bothered. "Why? I-I mean, hi! Uh, did you want me to move?"

I shrug and move round to sit next to her. "Not unless you're desperate to avoid me."

"But aren't you hanging out with Cordelia?"

With a chuckle and a shake of my head, I explain, "I more or less blew her off to talk to you earlier, so I'm apparently in her bad books. Her loss, I guess."

Willow smiles back a little nervously. "She's really popular though."

"Feh. At Hemery I _was_ her," I lie. "Except better dressed. Anyway, new school and all, so I was thinking of not flunking all my classes – novelty value and all – and I hear that you are the person to ask for help on that."

"Oh," she brightens "I could _totally_ help you out! Uh, if you have sixth period free we could meet in the library?"

I nod. "That should get us some peace to study," I say glancing around. "It was deserted when I went there earlier."

"I love it, it's a great collection, and the new librarian is really cool."

"Mr. Giles?" I asked rhetorically. "He's new then?"

"Yeah, he just started. He was curator at some British Museum, or, or the British Museum, I'm not sure. But he knows everything, and he brought all these historical volumes and biographies, and am I the single dullest person alive?" Willow babbled. I can see why so many people find the character adorable.

"No, you're not." I reassured her. "It's a bit odd though. Why would he give up being a curator to look after a High School library?"

"Oh, I don't know –" Willow began and then broke off as the Xander hopped up onto the wall behind us and then sat down between us.

Another guy, (even taller!) in an orange-shirt moved round to stand in front of us, dropping his bag. "Hey!"

"You guys busy?" asked Xander. "Are we interrupting? We're interrupting." He threw his own bag to Jesse.

I couldn't help but grin. "And I do indeed feel interrupted. Do you feel interrupted Willow?"

"Uh, oh, yes," she stammered. "Hey guys. Buffy, this is Jesse and that's Xander." Jesse of course is Herr Height.

"Oh me and Buffy go waaay back," Xander proclaimed.

"This morning," I explained to Jesse in a stage whisper.

I turned back to Xander to see him say, "Old friends, very close."

I returned my attention to Jesse and clarified: "I knocked him over and sat on him."

"Then," continued Xander doggedly, apparently quite flustered by the commentary. "Then there's that period of estrangement where I think we were both growing as people."

"Not very much in my case."

"But now here we are, like old times, I'm quite moved."

"Oh me too, absolutely."

Willow giggled and Jesse smirked a little at Xander. "Is it just me or are you turning into a bibbling idiot?"

"No," Xander confessed. "It's, uh, it's not you."

Well, it seems as though the intervening hours haven't erased the impression I've apparently made on him. Although I suppose not many girls have sat on his lap, even by accident. I suppose it would be impolite to ask if he's like this all the time or if he's having a bad day.

"Well, you know," says Jesse, "We wanted to welcome you, make you feel at home – unless you have a scary home…"

Yeah, it's called the Hellmouth.

"So," asked Xander. "What do you do for fun? What do you like? What do you look for in a man? Let's hear it."

"If you have any dark, painful secrets you'd like us to publish?" Jesse offered.

"Hey, hold back on the Spanish Inquisition routine," I laughed, waving Xander back a little. "Don't I get to ask you questions?"

"Well, you're pretty big news," Xander pointed out. "Not much goes on in a one Starbucks town like Sunnydale."

I doubt it's as quiet as all that, but before I could say anything, Cordelia spoted me and crossed the Quad towards us. "Are these guys bothering you?"

Nice of her to ask. Maybe I misjudged her a little. "Just hanging," I reply cheerfully.

"With, uh, us," Willow squeaked before shrinking back under Cordelia's stare.

"Hey, Cordelia," Jesse says as smoothly as he can manage, moving to stand next to her.

"Oh, please!" she brushed him off. "I don't mean to interrupt your downward mobility," the brunette told me, "but I just wanted to tell you that you won't be meeting Coach Foster, the woman with then chest hair," and I've got to say the look at her cleavage when she gestures to illustrate that makes this whole day worthwhile, "because gym was cancelled due to the _extreme_ dead guy in the locker."

Well that answers whether or not there are really vampires around.

"What are you talking about?" asked Willow.

"Some guy was stuffed in Aura's locker!" exclaimed Cordelia.

"A _dead_ guy?" I asked a little numbly. I know Giles had the book about 'vampyrs' but this seems a lot more real somehow.

"Totally dead. Way dead."

"It's not just a little dead, then?" Xander asked.

Cordelia directed a withering look at him. "Don't you have an elsewhere to be?" And I had to support her on that, as jokes go it was in appalling taste. Funny though it was.

I grabbed my things. "I guess if there's no gym I'd better go put in some study time," I told no one in particular. "I'll see you sixth period Willow."

As I headed indoors I heard Jesse trying out another rather pathetic chat up line on Cordelia. And get shot down of course.

Maybe I should coach him a little. At least to be less embarrassing.

I gave myself a little shake. Vampires first.


	2. Slayage 101

A/N

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and associated images, characters, etc. don't belong to me. Please don't sue me.

Thought for the day: Reviews are the currency of fanfiction.

.oOo.

Well I barely needed to check, but the dead boy (no, not Angel) died of blood loss through two very distinctive wounds in his neck. I forced his mouth open and there didn't seem to be any blood in there so at a guess he probably wasn't going to rise.

As silver linings go it's not much, but I'll take what I can get.

So there I was at the library. Again. I can think of worse places to spend my time – I'm a geek after all – but I can think of better places too.

"Mr. Giles?" I called.

"Sorry?" he asked from somewhere in the back of the shelving. Honestly, did he have some sort of ninja training? Lurking in Libraries 101?

"Dead guy in the girl's locker room? You heard?"

He stepped out into my view. "Yes."

I dropped my bag on the table and perched beside it, looking up at him. "Well I think I can make a guess at the cause of death." I placed two fingertips on the right side of my throat in about the right places and flexed my fingers a couple of times. "And he's looking quite anaemic, if you get what I mean?"

"I was afraid of this."

"_You_ were afraid of this? It's my first _day_! I really didn't expect vampires on campus!" I shook my head. "Try not to get me expelled, okay? Mom would be rather upset if that happened. You Watchers are officially in her bad books so don't count on getting any cookies."

"You told your mother about being the Slayer!?"

I winced. "No… although the minute I can think of a explanation that won't have me grounded until I'm collecting a pension, I will. But you Watchers are a definite bad influence and I'm sure she wouldn't want me hanging around with you."

"O-oh," Giles replied, then gathered his faculties. "Will the boy rise again?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"I suppose I could go bury a toothpick in his heart as a precaution," I said dryly, "but as a general rule they don't rise unless they've been drinking the blood of a vampire. And he didn't have any blood in his mouth. And is it just me or is this a really icky conversation?"

"It's not a coincidence, you know," he changed the topic swiftly. "The boy was just the beginning."

I just glared at him. This whole thing is monumentally unfair. I'm not exactly the real deal as a Slayer. Am I?

"You are the Slayer," Giles told me. "Into each generation a Slayer is born, one girl –"

"Bollocks. Slayers live, what, two years after being called? One per generation doesn't cover it."

"W-well –"

"And enough of this metaphysical crap," I growled, standing and pacing. "Gimme the nitty-gritty, Watcher-mine. Why here? Why now?"

"What do you know about this town?" he asked over his shoulder as he dashed into his office in a fit of enthusiasm.

"Founded not quite a century ago on top of something the Spanish called 'Boca del Inferno'," I said promptly. "Death rate per capita that rivals Mexico City, last known sighting of the demon Balthazar and of the vampire Joseph Nest – among others. Rumoured resting place of the Gem of Amara and the Glove of Myhnegon – among other items. Not the sort of place I'd let my little sister go to school if I had any say in the matter, in other words."

There was an astonished silence.

"I don't like research, Mr Giles. I'm not really all that good at it. But I'm not suicidal either. And I've been paying very close attention to my dreams since I was called."

"That's very good," he admitted. "I've dug into the town's history a bit and there have been a steady stream of fairly odd occurrences. I believe that this whole area is a centre of mystical energy, that things gravitate towards it that, that, that you might not find elsewhere."

That I might not _want_ to find _any_where. "You really get off on this stuff, don't you?"

"Ah, w-w-w-yes."

"Whatever. So, vampires. Up to no good, yes?"

"Uh, yes."

"Any specifics?"

"The signs, as far as I can tell, point to a crucial mystical upheaval. It's been building for years and it will reach it's peak soon. Days. Possibly less."

"Not really enough time for me to check your research if I want to get to afternoon classes," I said thoughtfully. "Okay, there's a club in town – some kiddie hangout called the Bronze. You know it?"

"I think so."

"Okay then. Get yourself a couple of stakes, some holy water – the usual vampire hunting kit. Then meet me there this evening." I told him as I grabbed my bag and hopped off the table.

"W-what for?" he asked as he followed me towards the door.

"We need more information - _insider_ information, Giles," I told him. "Dead boy was dressed for clubbing so the Bronze is probably where he was when he got picked up. So I'm going trolling for vampires."

"What should I do?"

"You're a Watcher, Watcher. Watch me," I said as I left the library.

.oOo.

School's out and I'm back home trying to decide what to wear. Of course, this isn't me trying to make a fashion statement – this is me trying to figure out what I can wear and still carry a healthy supply of slayage tools.

Well, okay. And what will look good.

I can see already that I'm gonna have to rearrange her – my - closet. Dresses are going to the back. Skirts… well, probably those too. I wore jeans to school and I really don't feel ready for taking the plunge into wearing skirts.

Fortunately, she does have a few decent options left and I was trying to decide between a couple of tops when Mom – Joyce – walked in. "Hi hon."

"Hi Mom. Good day?"

"Yes… we may have found a space today, for the gallery. I think we can make it work here."

"Really?" I said in what I hope was a positive tone. "That's great!"

She walked over to the bed and started rearranging the pillows absently. "Are you, uh, going out tonight?"

"Yeah, there's some club in town I heard about at school."

"Oh. Will there be boys there?" asked Mom, with badly concealed concern.

I have a wicked sense of humour and I know I should keep it under better control. But… sometimes I just don't care. "I guess, I don't think Sunnydale's big enough to have it's own lesbian club."

Mom goes bright red. "Buffy!"

I laugh and drop the top I've chosen on the bed before going over to hug her. "I'm kidding, Mom. There probably will be boys, but I'll be careful. It sounds like half the school hangs out there so I doubt there's any worse than occasional karaoke there."

"Oh," she says when we're done hugging, not sounding very comforted. "It's hard. New town and everything… It is for me, too. I'm trying to make it work."

"We're going to make it work," I reassure her. "You, me and Dawnie. Right?"

"Oh, you're a good girl, Buffy," she tells me, holding my hands. Hah! What does she know! "You just fell in with the wrong crowd. But that's all behind us now."

Yeah, we've travelled to a new town where your daughter can meet new and interesting people and slay them. Except I'm not your daughter.

We let go of each other's hands and I go to return the discarded top to the closet. "So, how's Dawn settling in?"

.oOo.

Sunnydale at night is not terribly well lit.

Call me old fashioned, but street lighting is one of those little things that I more or less take for granted. Where I come from, if there are enough houses for pavement to be laid then there will be municipal lighting. I guess Mayor Wilkins must have cut that out of the budget at some point though. Slayers may have better than 20/20 vision but I'd not complain about a little more light to work with.

I was also being followed.

Not too surprising really – the sun had been down a while and I was a lone and apparently defenceless female. Okay, I was aware it was probably just Angel in his cuddly care-bear variety of vampire phase, but when it's dark and you're all alone the recollection that somewhere this was just a TV show wasn't all that comforting.

Probably a vampire, yeah. Angel – well I guessed I'll have to find that out the hard way.

I ducked down an alley rather than following the road on towards the Bronze and glanced around. Great. Buffy – the real one – picked an alley with a nice hiding place. I pick one that's not so convenient.

Yay me.

After a quick moment's thought, pressured by the sound of footsteps closing in, I jumped up and kicked off one side of the alley to kick off the opposite wall a bit higher. Three repeats of this and I was able to catch the gutter and pull myself onto it, lurking there like a particularly petite gargoyle.

A moment later, I spot my stalker. Tall guy, dark hair, white shirt but otherwise dressed in black. And could that jacket get any more obvious? Well unless there's another magnificent poof prancing around, it looks like Angel's turned up on schedule.

I let him stalk past looking around for me but not looking up and then dropped down to the ground as quietly as I could. Which is pretty damn stealthy actually – even with vampire hearing he didn't turn until he got to the end of the alley without finding me.

Once he turned of course, he saw me stood in the middle of the alley, left hand supporting right elbow, right hand cupping my chin in thought. "So," I told him. "What brings a big strong… man, chasing after me down dark alleys? I know I'm looking good, but that's ridiculous."

He looked slightly stunned for a moment and then rallied his long abused social skills. "I know what you're thinking."

"Oh, I really doubt that," I told him dryly. "'Cuz if you did, you'd probably be trying to hit me. Note that I didn't use the word 'on' there."

"Don't worry," he said. "I don't bite."

"Can we just get to the bit where you tell me what you want?"

"I want the same thing you do."

"Oh!" I said perkily. "I understand. I know this football player who's gay – it's really not that uncommon these days… You've got nothing to be ashamed of."

Angel blinks at me like cow blinks at an oncoming train. "What?"

"It's okay, the jacket and the hair gel pretty much gave it away," I assure him. "Although if you're like that, why are you following me around?"

"Like wha-" His eyes widened in shock. "I am _not_ gay!"

"So what _do_ you want then?"

"To kill them," he says intently, stepping closer. "To kill them all."

"Well, that's… nice. Vague, but it's got that old-country feel to it. Now what precisely does this have to do with me?"

"You can't walk away from this!" he protests as I turn away to do just that. "You're standing at the Mouth of Hell. And it's about to open."

I pause and look back over my shoulder as he opens his jacket – just in case he's going for a weapon. Instead he pulls out a small box. "Don't turn your back on this. You've gotta be ready." He throws me the box.

"Ready for what?" I ask as I catch the box in one hand.

"For the Harvest," he says and fades back into the shadows.

I backed up out of the alley before I opened the box. A silver crucifix on a fine chain. How cute. Familiar looking as well. After a moment's thought I wrapped the chain around my wrist three times, turning it into a nice little charm bracelet. Putting it around my neck would be an invitation to getting choked with it.

And then I went to the Bronze.

.oOo.

The Bronze… the things I could say about it.

Carousing in slightly converted warehouses not being precisely my scene previously - a quiet pint in a pub with some friends (hey it sounds better than Giles' alternatives) is more my speed – I don't have a lot to compare it to. There was a pool table and a more or less adequate band. The lighting was better than, say, a disco on Goth night but that's about it. Quite a few people were dancing which was interesting to look at I guess, but not exactly worth the cover.

I didn't see Giles immediately but I recalled him being on the upper level if events went as they had done. I wasn't in a rush though. Better to get a feel for the place now since I expected to be fighting in here at some point.

So really, when I went to the bar I was just honing my situational awareness and considering tactical options.

And talking to dead-boy had worked up a thirst, yes. I wanted my caffeine fix.

"Hey Willow," I said as I walked up and took the stool next to her.

"Oh, hi!" she said, a bit surprised. I guess she expected me to be ignoring her and sucking up to Cordelia. "Hi," she said again when I was done ordering a coke.

"Hi. Are you here with someone?"

"No," she shook her head. "I thought Xander was gonna show up."

"Ah…" I nodded in understanding. "Are you guys…" I gestured vaguely. "…together?"

"No, we're just friends. We used to go out, but we broke up."

They went out? Don't recall that from the show. "That's too bad. What happened?"

"He stole my Barbie." Er, what? My expression must have conveyed this to her. "Oh, we were five."

Ah. I nod in understanding. I can sort of remember being five. A little. I sort of remember something about that now. Great, watching the show isn't exactly a lot of help right now.

"I-I-I don't actually date a whole lot… lately," she added hastily, in hope of sounding less pathetic I guess. I'm not exactly in any position to criticise without being a total hypocrite.

"What?" I ask lightly. "Are the guys around here blind or something?"

She blushes slightly. "Well, when I'm with a boy I like, it's hard for me to say anything cool, or, or witty, or at all. I-I can usually make a few vowel sounds, and then I have to go away."

"You're kidding!" She really is worse at this whole boy-girl thing than I am. That's kind of rare.

"No. I-I think boys are more interested in a girl who can talk."

Okay, she really _hasn't_ been dating recently. I know boys. I _was_ a boy. Being concerned about girl's talking is a major – and rare – mark of maturity at this age. "Only the ones worth the time, sadly."

"It's probably easy for you," Willow says. If only she knew. I shoot her a quizzical look, prompting more explanation. "I-I mean you don't seem shy."

Well that much is true. "Trust me, I'm a total coward when it comes to boys I like."

"No!"

"Really," I confirm. "The only dating I've done lately is if a guy asks me out."

Willow sighed. "But at least you can talk to them."

Sigh. "Alright, I'll grant you that." Rolling my eyes brings Giles into view, leaning over the balcony above us. About bloody time. Tilting my glass back I drain it quickly. "Now then. I've gotta go set someone straight about a couple of things. But I'll be back. And –" I finish by waving one finger under her nose. "Think positive. Maybe dance with a guy or something. No one can talk out there."

"Oh!" she said. Then realises I'm leaving. "Tha-that's okay, you don't have to come back."

"I know I don't _have_ to," I tell her. Damn, she's cute. Get her out of clothes her Mom picks for her and… No, no. Bad Buffy. "I _want_ to."

.oOo.

"So, Watcher," I greet Giles with a pat on the back. Since he was looking down from the balcony at the time he almost jumped out of his clothes. "Are you having fun yet?"

"Watching clown hair," he pointed at the singer of the band, "prance around is hardly my idea of fun."

Can't blame him for that. Not my cup of tea either. "Relax, soon you'll be looking back on this moment and wondering why you were being so ungrateful towards the universe. For here," I reassured him perkily, "it gets worse."

"The mind boggles," he muttered.

I grinned and looked down over the balcony. No familiar faces leapt out at me. "Well, by the pricking of my thumbs… and other, less reputable sources, we can anticipate the wonderful undead festivities known as 'The Harvest' any day now. Mean anything to you?"

"I'm not sure," Giles replied thoughtfully. "Uh… W-who told you this?"

"A little bird told me." Okay the look that that netted me was positively prehistoric. I shrugged unrepentantly. "I don't know his name, he was stalking me and gave me some info when I explained the alternative was me carving his heart out with a teaspoon."

"A teaspoon? W-why a teaspoon, precisely."

"Because it would hurt more – can we focus on the Harvest. Because I really don't think it's going to be a nothing but a jolly bout of maypole dancing outside city hall."

"Oh, yes. Quite," he conceded. "I can't recall anything now – I'll have to consult my books."

"Well put it off for a minute or two," I told him. "See if you can spot any vampires – a little persuasion and we could find out all sorts of useful information – the sort of stuff that they haven't had time to put in a book yet."

"S-such as?" Giles asked, looking around as if vampires were about to jump out, fangs bared, at any moment.

"Vampires are social creatures. If we go far enough we'll find that there's one vampire, a Master, that ninety-odd percent of the bloodsuckers in town answer to him. I'd feel a whole lot better if we knew who he was, what he could do, where he hides out," I explained quietly. "Wouldn't you?"

"Can't you sense them?" he asked with a frown. "A vampire appears to be completely normal until the feed is upon them," he grimaced. "Only then do they reveal their true demonic visage."

"I know that, Giles," I mutter, eyes moving across the crowd. "Don't tell me the problem, find me a solution."

"A Slayer should be able to see them anyway. Without looking… without thinking! Even through this mass and this… din, you should be able to sense them."

"Well I can't do that, Obi-wan. Slayers aren't cast out of moulds you know. We have our strengths and weaknesses like everybody else. So we're just going to have to use the Mark I eyeball tonight. Are you okay with that?"

I looked across the crowded floor as an uncomfortable silence fell between us.

I thought I spotted Darla for a minute and tensed as I saw her face. Then I recognised the girl as one of the harpies from school. Harmony Kendall and unless I managed to change things she wouldn't be turned for a little while yet.

"I'm sorry," Giles and I said in unison an then blinked and looked at each other in surprise. My lips twitched and he actually lost the worried frown for a moment. "Ladies first," he said.

"I was rude there and I apologise. But if you had a family, kids, would you have brought them here? Into this mess?"

"Well, no."

"My family are here and there's nothing I can do about it. Dawn's only eleven and not half as smart as she thinks she is. I don't like feeling helpless."

"Ah," he nodded in understanding. "And I apologise for pushing you. I'm afraid I've never worked with a Slayer before so my own knowledge is only theoretical." Giles paused. "So how 'smart' _does_ you sister think she is?"

"About twice as smart as me," I said dryly as I spotted Willow downstairs, making dancelike movements by the dance floor. Then she turned and I saw she was dancing with a sharp-faced guy in a florid shirt under a jacket that looked a decade or so out of date.

Well, it's all coming back to you know, my subconsciousness taunted me as I focused on him. I was hoping that it was just a coincidence, that I hadn't left Willow, unintentionally as it was, staked out like a sacrificial goat to draw out a vampire.

Unfortunately…

A wave of nausea washed over me and I was certain of his nature. Christ! Is that what Giles was talking about? Is that Buffy's 'slayer-sense'?

"Shit," I muttered as 'Fang' talked Willow into heading for the door with him.

"What?" asked Giles. "You see one?"

"Yeah." I checked my jacket to make sure the various slayage supplies were still with me. "And it's found itself prey. I'll try to head them off – meet me at the door." Then I ran for the stairs.

.oOo.

Well I found out one thing that night very quickly. Fighting in the Bronze was going to be a bit of a bastard when it was this crowded. Even with the advantage of knowing that they were leaving the building and not needing to improvise a weapon, I couldn't get to the door anything like fast enough.

Cordelia emerged from the restroom just as I passed it. "Buffy, nice jacket," she started her put down routine. Leather must be out this season.

"Hi Cordy, bye Cordy," I threw back over my shoulder as her… entourage emerged in time to hear me blow her off. A weak rejoinder but with style. And the thirty or so seconds it took to process that and turn it into a mistake on my part was long enough to get out of sight. Plus I didn't nearly stake her in front of witnesses. Score!

Unfortunately by the time I got to the door, it was too late to do more than ask the bouncer which way they'd gone, on the pretence that Willow had forgotten her purse.

I turned to look for Giles and saw him passing Jesse, who was chatting up some blonde with her back to me. Dammit, dammit, dammit. I can't be in two places at once and I don't know where the mausoleum is that they'll be taken.

"That _was_ quick," Giles applauded. "Well done! I-I need to go –"

"Shut up," I snarled. Okay, Giles could probably take one vampire if the vamp wasn't too capable. But he couldn't manage Darla.

"N-Now that's no -"

"They're gone. And there's another vampire – a Master," I growled. Damn, I had nothing but hope that things would pan out close to my vague recollections. "Are you armed?"

"Yes." He had the sense to get business-like.

"Good. I can't be in two places at once, so you're gonna have to deal with the one outside. One civilian – redhead my age. They went left outside the door. If you hurry you can catch them. I'll deal with the other one. I'll meet you at the library when I'm done or in the morning if I can't make it before."

He hesitated.

"Go!"

.oOo.

Needless to say, no sooner was my loyal sidekick Tweedy sent off on his mission than I lost track of Jesse and Darla. What is it with this damn club anyway? Is one uncluttered line of sight too much to ask?

It took precious minutes to figure out that they'd left too and to convince the bouncer to sympathise with me about being left behind by all my friends and confirm which way they'd taken. I could only hope that Darla would take too long leading Jesse around or would stop for a little snack – having him half-drained was better than letting her take him to the Master and turn him.

I emerged from the Bronze and headed in the indicated direction but barely got ten yards before someone heading in the opposite direction hailed me. "Hey, you're leaving already?" asked Xander.

"Xander, hi!" Oh good. For the life of me I couldn't remember how he got involved in this mess except that he overheard something in the library. "Have you seen Jesse?"

He frowned. "Not tonight, no."

"I saw him earlier but he left with a girl."

His eyes widened. "Whoa! Jesse scored? It wasn't Cordy was it? 'Cause I got this bet going with Willow…"

"No – look, I need to find him. I know this girl and I don't think Jesse's gonna enjoy her notion of foreplay – much less what comes after."

"Why not?" he asked. Great, now he gets sceptical on me. This I don't need. "Oh, hey, I hope she's not a vampire, 'cause then you might have to 'slay' her."

"She is and I do," I say, walking in what I'm pretty sure is the right direction. "At this stage I don't really care where you found that out."

"What, are you serious?" Xander said, jogging to keep up.

"Deadly serious."

"Look, I don't know where you came up with this stuff but –"

"Where's the nearest graveyard in this direction? No, never mind, I see it."

"Buffy, there's no such thing as Vampires!"

I didn't slow down. Right now I had more important things to do.

"Buffy…"

"Do you want to bet Jesse's life on being right about vampires?"

He groaned and kept following me as I entered the graveyard. For a moment I could see moonlight on long blonde hair. Then it descended and as I ran in that direction, slowly enough for Xander to keep up, I could smell blood in the air. "Dammit."

"What?" Xander gasped.

"She's feeding."


	3. My Aching Pride

A/N

Disclaimer: You can't prove a thing!

Thought for the day: The glass only half-empty until you drain it.

.oOo.

Xander and I followed Darla and her captive towards a sizable mausoleum near the middle of the graveyard, and were closing the distance rapidly as Jesse's pace slowed. As we came through the last line of trees between the tomb and us, there was an altercation at the doorway and I saw Giles drive a stake into Willow's captor, dusting him. Not a bad job, even if it had taken him this long. Hopefully Willow hadn't been hurt.

Unfortunately, Darla was still way closer than we were and she dropped Jesse to attack Giles from behind. I'm guessing that Jesse was still fairly out of it, because he stumbled after her, instead of away like any sane person would. She's not that damn pretty.

I grabbed Xander by the collar. "Get your friend and get out of here, I'll handle the rest," I ordered sharply and ran for the tomb as a shriek came from within. From the sound, I'd guess that Willow had seen Darla with her game face on.

Fortunately the blonde was still standing over Giles when I ploughed into her from behind, pushing her into the mausoleum and off her feet. I caught myself on the doorframe and looked around. Willow, looking terrified, Darla, looking pissed. No sign of whatshisname – the big guy - so I guess he's still on his way here from kissing up to the Master.

"Come with me if you want to live," I told Willow. (What!? It worked in Terminator!)

"You're not going anywhere!" Darla snarled, leaping to her feet.

I snorted and shoved one hand into the hip pocket of my jacket. "Wanna bet on that, kitten?"

"Who the hell are you?"

I smiled as I walked down the steps and pulled my hand out of my pocket so that I could crack my knuckles. "Just someone who doesn't like leaving loose ends. End of the road, Darla."

She roared and jumped forwards. I blocked her first few punches and then kicked her in the stomach. She doubled over and I grabbed her head between my hands. Willow flinched as Darla began to scream. I guess the holy water on my hands must have hurt a bit, because she wasn't looking too pretty when she broke my grip – two smoking handprints on her face.

When I put my hand in my pocket I opened the vial of holy water in there and cupped enough in my hand to rub it on my other hand when I cracked my knuckles. A one shot trick but it had paid off.

"Get out of here," I told Willow flatly. She nodded once, her eyes wide and scrambled for the door.

"Don't go far," Darla hissed mockingly. She stared at me in hatred. "And you! You're going to pay for that!"

"I'll take that chance," I told her, as we circled each other, looking for an opening.

I'm not really sure which of us moved first and the next few minutes were a whirl of combat that I couldn't honestly recount to you. It was fast and nasty and ended with me holding Darla's head again, this time from behind as I pounded her open jaws against the corner of the sarcophagus that dominated the floor of the mausoleum. I could feel her fangs breaking under the impacts and god help me, I liked that.

Her mouth was a bloody ruin when I threw her back and pulled a stake out of my jacket. "Does it hurt?" I asked her coldly. "Don't worry... it'll be over soon."

I lunged with my stake and the next thing I knew a hand like iron had fastened onto the back of my neck and hurled me across the mausoleum. I let go of the stake immediately and braced for the impact but it still left me on the floor, gasping for breath and swearing at myself.

How could I be so _stupid_!? Getting blindsided by Luke almost the same way that the real Buffy had? If I'd half a brain I'd have staked Darla fast, the first chance I had, not take the time to beat her face into a bloody ruin.

"Does it hurt?" sneered Luke. "Don't worry... it'll be over soon." It sounded better when I said it.

He hauled Darla to her feet. "You were supposed to be bringing an offering for the Master! We're almost at Harvest and you dally with this child!"

She whimpered and tried to speak, but couldn't manage coherent words.

"You go," he ordered in disgust. "I'll see if I can handle the little girl."

I rolled to my knees and lunged as Darla staggered for the door. I slammed into her again, and we hit the back of the door, forcing it closed. "You're not going anywhere," I told her and spun to keep her between Luke and me.

He just smirked. "Nor are you."

That was unfortunately true. I was pretty sure that the combined impact of Darla and myself had twisted the doorframe and it wasn't going to be opening without more effort than I could spare with a pair of vampires trying to kill me.

Darla wasn't much help either. She was well enough to struggle and I'm pretty sure she realised that Luke wouldn't hesitate to go through her to get at me. Plus, from this angle I couldn't get a good angle through her rib cage at her heart.

So I tried for something else. I loosed one hand and in the instant before she managed to free herself from my other hand I drew my second (and last) stake from my jacket and drove it into her back.

She screamed in pain and fell to the floor, the stake jutting up from her back just above her hips. I guess I must have done some serious damage to her spine though – I don't think she could stand right now and it would take more leverage than she had to get it out.

Luke glanced at her and I'm pretty sure that the look on his face meant he was impressed. It was kind of hard to tell. "You're strong," he admitted casually, then blasted past my best effort to block him with a right cross that rattled my teeth and hammered me brutally into the door, twisting it further. "I'm stronger."

Then he hurled me across the room again and stalked after me. That was getting real old.

I scrambled to my feet and backed up, assessing the situation. I was out of stakes unless he gave me a moment to get the one I'd dropped earlier – about as likely as me letting him take the other one out of Darla to get her back in the fight. The holy water vial in my pocket was empty and more likely to cause me an injury than him – broken glass being so sharp and all. I wasn't carrying a crucifix – except the little one on my wrist - so that left me a little short in the holy trinity of the vampire hunter.

I hadn't hit him hard enough to measure his resilience but he was stronger than me and I guessed he hadn't lasted long enough to be the Master's favourite if he couldn't take a few hits.

I'd been in better places, I decided as I passed Darla, taking a moment to kick her in the face. In her case I think the injury was insult enough but you can't get too much of a good thing in my book.

"You're wasting my time," Luke sneered as we made another circuit around the room.

"Think I can keep this up 'til sunrise?" I asked hopefully.

He laughed. "You have no idea what you're dealing with."

I smirked and looked at him down the length of the sarcophagus. "Why don't you tell me then. Chicks dig men with big plans, or hadn't you heard that?"

Luke shook his head. "You think you can stop me? Stop the Harvest?" He kept moving, forcing me to match him.

"Well, I can get killed because I didn't stop it," I said grimly. "Or I can get killed _trying_ to stop it. Or I can _survive_ by stopping it. I'll give you three guesses which option I prefer."

I had my back to the door when Luke lunged – not at me, but at the sarcophagus. He grabbed the lid and shoved it. I seriously doubt if I could have moved it that easily and the stone block could have crushed me flat if I'd been hit by it. Or Darla, but unfortunately she was off to one side. Fortunately, the effort left him momentarily distracted and I vaulted onto the top of the open sarcophagus and kicked him in the face, knocking him back against the wall. He crashed into in and managed to bring down one of the pedestals on top of himself.

Then I turned and ran for the door, slamming into it with slayer strength and a whole lot of adrenaline. The doorframe twisted away enough for me to get a good grip on the door and pull on it. The lower half remained stuck but the top bent enough for me to squeeze out through the hole with a bit of wriggling.

I took a moment to strip off my bulky leather jacket and Luke rounded the sarcophagus just in time to see me scramble through headfirst and land face first on the ground outside.

Ow, my aching pride.

.oOo.

I ran from mausoleum and hoped that Luke would consider me a loose end. The entire situation inside had gotten out of hand far too fast. I needed to fall back and regroup. I couldn't see any of the others so hopefully they had gotten away.

Even with the knocking about I'd taken, I could move fast and I was halfway out of the cemetery when I heard the roar of a vampire and a feminine scream.

Willow. Damn!

She was lying on the ground and a vampire had her pinned, lowering his face towards her neck. "No!" she shrieked. "Get off!"

The noise must have masked my approach because the first thing he knew of my presence was my foot hammering into his chest. The impact flipped him up and back off of Willow. He was stunned for a moment and I leapt on him, driving one foot below his ribs to leave him gasping for air he didn't need. Aren't obsolete reflexes fun?

Grabbing him by one sleeve I spun him around and he slipped out of his jacket to get loose. Good. It wasn't quite as nice as the jacket I'd lost but it went some way towards replacing it. The weight of a wallet in the inside pocket suggested other compensations.

Deciding that discretion was the better part of valour, and that cowardice was the better part of discretion, the vampire ran for his unlife and I gave chase, with Willow gamely trying not to fall behind. I slackened my pace – I didn't want to leave her alone in the graveyard, even if it meant letting the vampire get away. We passed a tree and I veered close enough to rip one of the branches loose.

Since I was distracted, it was Willow who spotted the two vampires dragging Giles away. "Mr. Giles!"

I jerked my head around and saw the vampires the same moment they saw Willow. She yelped and ducked back behind a gravestone as the one of the vampires dropped the librarian in favour of younger prey. By the time the she-vamp saw me, we had him, my ally momentum and I.

I used the branch to clothesline her and then brought it down with a sharp thrust into the chest before she could gather her wits.

The other vampire closed in, less confident and more canny. It didn't matter. I was feeling frustrated and I took it out on him, beating him liberally into the turf before I drove what was left of the branch up underneath his ribcage and into his heart.

Willow had taken the opportunity to rush over to Giles, who was still on the ground and only now coming to his senses. "Are you okay?" she asked, kneeling down next to him.

"Something hit me," he realised. Let no one ever say that Rupert Giles was slow on the uptake.

"Have you seen anyone else?" I asked.

"Only them," Willow said. "They caught us leaving the graveyard."

"Did you –" Giles said, rising unsteadily to his feet. "Did you get the other vampire, Buffy?"

I think that that was the very first time he ever used my given name (or what he and everyone else thinks my name is, anyway. Let's not split hairs). Doesn't it give you a warm, fuzzy feeling?

"Sadly, no, although I think I spoiled her whole night." I said. "Come on," I added, throwing his arm around my shoulders. "Let's get you back to your nice safe library where you can put your feet up and research how the world ends while I walk Willow home."

"That sounds wonderful," he sighed.

.oOo.

It turned out that Xander had managed to get Jesse clear of the graveyard before the vampires arrived. Fortunately he had the sense to keep exactly what happened to himself – or perhaps he didn't believe it himself.

So Jesse wound up in hospital getting transfusions for blood loss after being attacked by 'gang members on PCP', and I wound up getting accosted by Xander as soon as I arrived at school the next morning.

"What the hell happened last night, Buffy," he demanded. At a guess he must have been up most of the night – he was wearing the same clothes and looked hollow-eyed.

I rubbed at my own eyes – I'd had a long night myself, between getting Willow home and then convincing Mom that there was nothing sinister about the time I got back 'from the Bronze' or the loss of my jacket... fortunately she didn't know about the wallet, which I'd stripped and dumped between Willow's home and my own.

"It's a long story," I told him. "And not one I want to share with everyone in the school. Let's go to the library."

Giles was waiting in the library, having been there all night as far as I could tell. So was Willow, who also wanted an explanation. Since he so obviously wanted to get a lecture off his chest I let Giles do the telling.

"The world is older than any of you know," the Watcher lectured as he moved down the shelves, picking out volumes he felt would be useful. "Contrary to popular mythology, it did not begin as a paradise. For untold eons demons walked the Earth. They made their home, their, uh, their hell. But in time they lost their purchase on this reality. The way was made for mortal animals, for-for man. All that remains of the old ones are vestiges, certain magicks, certain creatures...

"Vampires being the relevant example," I explained.

"Okay, this is where I have a problem," Xander said, pacing around with nervous energy. "See, because we're talking about vampires. We're having a _talk_ with vampires in it."

"Isn't that what we saw last night?" Willow asked from her chair at the table. She looked very small and frightened by the idea.

"That's up to you," I said as gently as I could manage. I patted her shoulder. "If you want to, you can probably convince yourself that it was a bad dream, that someone spiked your drinks or something. That you and Jesse weren't dragged out to a cemetery for a vampire to drain your blood. I wouldn't blame you – I didn't want to believe it either."

"Oh, I, I need to sit down," she said.

"Good idea," I said and crouched to wrap my arm around her shoulders. "Try breathing deeply."

"So vampires are demons?" Xander asked. Yay for Mr. Sensitive.

"The books tell the last demon to leave this reality fed off a human, mixed their blood. He was a human form possessed, infected by the demon's soul." Giles explained. "He bit another, and another, and so they walk the Earth, feeding... Killing some, mixing their blood with others to make more of their kind." He hesitated and then continued pensively, "Waiting for the animals to die out, and the old ones to return."

"Yeah, but that's not gonna happen," Xander asked. "Right?" He looked at Giles and then me. I looked away. "Right?"

"It's not impossible. Difficult, but when they place an time are right it's possible to open the door. And invite them back in. One of those places is here..." I pointed down at the floor. "and from what we've been able to find out, one of those times is about to begin." I stood and picked up a book from the table, flipping through it absently.

There was a stunned silence.

"So h-how do you know all this?" Willow asked.

"I'm the Slayer," I explained.

"And that would be a what?" demanded Xander.

"For as long as there have been vampires," Giles told him, "there's been the Slayer. One girl in all the world, a Chosen One."

"And for at least the last few centuries, there's been the Watchers. A bunch of stuffy British types doling out mystic advice to Slayers and generally acting like they have property rights over the Slayer."

Giles looked miffed. "That's rather a harsh description, Miss Summers."

"It's nothing personal, Mr. Giles," I told him. "But the attitude of the Watchers as a whole tends to be 'Another Slayer dead? Oh, well, I guess she wasn't worthy. Never mind, there will be another one along in a moment.'" I took a chair and flopped into it. "Excuse me for not being awed by their attention."

Xander and Willow looked at us in shock. I debated bringing up the Cruciamentum and decided I wasn't _that_ worried about winning this argument – not just yet at any rate.

"Alright," said Giles. "In any event, the Slayer hunts Vampires, Buffy is a Slayer, don't tell anyone. Well, I think that's all the vampire information you need," he finished dismissively.

"Except for one thing," Xander said. "How do you kill them?"

"Violence basically," I told him. "A stake through the heart works, so does decapitation. They don't like holy water, or holy symbols, but it's quite hard to use those to kill them. Fire is good though." I turned to Giles. "Anyway, this vampire that turned up in the crypt after Darla clobbered you was talking about an offering to the Master. Now I don't know who or what that is, but he'd have to be quite impressive to keep those two under his thumb. So we can guess that he's probably at the top of the local food chain."

"That seems logical," Giles agreed. "Do you have any idea where he might be?"

"Well, it's a bit of an intuitive leap," I lied, "but all the vampires seemed to be heading for that one mausoleum. So unless it was just a meeting point, there's probably some sort of access to the sewers or a cave system or something of that nature hidden there. Assuming he's a vampire, staying out of the sunlight would be an issue and that would give him access to pretty much everywhere. I didn't see any sewer access there, but there might be something else."

"Well, there's an electrical tunnel that runs under the whole town," suggested Xander.

"If we had a diagnostic of the tunnel system it might indicate a-a meeting place, it would, uh..." He frowned. "I suppose we could go to the building commission."

"And why would they let us have that information?" I asked mildly.

"Uh," Willow stirred. "Guys?" We turned to look at her. "There may be another way."

.oOo.

Willow must have been having a bad day – it took her almost fifteen minutes to get the library's lone PC booted up and open up the city plans to take a look at a map of the electrical tunnels.

"Bingo!" I said, reaching over to tap at the screen. "Right underneath the graveyard."

Xander frowned. "I don't see any access."

"You're right," I agreed. Wilkins strikes again I guess. "But I guess it wouldn't take long for a couple of vampires to dig one. Not many people to catch them in a graveyard at night."

"So," asked Giles. "All the city plans are just, uh, open to the public?"

"Um, well, I-in a way," Willow stammered. "I sort of stumbled onto them when I accidentally decrypted the city council's security system."

"Someone's been naughty," Xander commented.

"Bu-sted," I carolled into Willow's ear, right before she blushed very prettily. "Okay, let's see what else we can find about the underside of Sunnyhell."

.oOo.

"Sewers, electrical tunnels and a spelunker's wet dream of a cave system..." I said as we walked down the hall later. "Does anyone think that sounds rather risky in earthquake country or am I just being hopelessly pedestrian?"

"So what's the plan?" asked Xander. "We saddle up, right?"

I shook my head. "Worse than that I'm afraid."

"Buffy," Willow whispered. "I'm not anxious to go into a dark place full of monsters. But I do want to help. I need to."

"That's okay Willow," I told her. "You can help Giles with the 'dread machine' and look for information on the 'Net. We still need to know what's going on here, what the Harvest is. Giles is great but 'preordained massacre, rivers of blood, hell on earth,' isn't quite the level of detail I need to stop this."

"So what do _we_ do?" Xander asked, gesturing to mean me and him.

"We, my friend," I told him, "have the toughest job."

He gulped. "Uh, right."

"I'm counting on your support here, Xander," I told him. Cruel, yes, that would describe my behaviour here. I waited until his eyes were wide, trying to imagine what he'd have to do. "I need you to act like it's a normal day. Like there's nothing wrong, like Jesse's out of school for some completely innocent reason."

We stopped in front of our next class. "What!?" he asked.

"If this goes well then the waiting will be the hardest part," I told him, seriously.

"This is just too much," he protested. "I mean yesterday my life's like 'Uh-oh, pop quiz.' Today..."

"I know."

"And everyone else thinks it's just a normal day," Willow added.

"Nobody knows. It's like we've got this big secret," Xander said.

"We do," Willow reminded the big doofus.

"Oh, right." He frowned. "Buffy, you said the hard part was the waiting?"

"If this goes well."

"And if it doesn't?" he asked.

"That would be the painful deaths," I told him as I entered the classroom.

.oOo.

Computer lab was surprisingly easy and surprisingly difficult. Easy because I've worked with computers for years – it's a feature of any sort of office work or at least will be once time catches up to my own day. It's disconcerting to be almost a decade in the past and be reminded how fast that came to be the case.

It was _difficult_ because I've used computers but I've not done any of this primitive BASIC monkey work since I was younger than I am now. So much for the Californian school system.

Even so, I finished the assignment faster than anyone except Willow and while she ran her internet searches, I made a few checks of my own. There… wasn't much there. The internet in 1997 felt incredibly small. I spotted a few things though and a couple of them even turned out to be useful later on.

Of course, web surfing doesn't take huge amounts of concentration so I was able to listen to the rest of the class. Slayer hearing only encourages cynicism, I realised as I eavesdropped shamelessly on Cordelia and Harmony. Poor Willow was sat next to Harmony. I wouldn't have traded places for all the tea in China.

"No!" Cordelia whined. "It's supposed to find the syntax and match it. Or wait…"

"Are we going to the Bronze tonight?" asked Harmony, who was apparently paying even less attention to her work than the brunette.

"No, we're going to the other cool place in Sunnydale," Cordelia replied sarcastically. There was a pause as Harmony tried to work that out. Maybe she dyes her eyebrows brunette not her hair blonde. "Of course we're going to the Bronze," the brains of the local chapter of the Beta Chi Nu sorority explained. "Friday night? No cover? Everyone'll be there."

"Do you think the new girl'll be there?" Harmony asked. "What's her name, Buffy?"

Cordelia sneers and I turn my head to make sure I don't miss any of her version of events. "Oh I don't think so. I saw her there but she and Willow ran off to their own little geek party. And as for what she was wearing... puh-leez."

"I think we did this part wrong," Harmony said, Cordelia having talked past her limited attention span.

Cordelia glared at her own screen. "Why do we have to devise these programs? Isn't that what nerds are like. What'd she do?" she asked Harmony, pointing at Willow.

I grinned at their bafflement and hit print to get hard copies of what I'd been looking for. Then I closed down the window and began erasing the superficial evidence of how I'd been misusing school resources.

"So anyway," Cordelia returned to her previous theme. "I come outta the bathroom and she comes running past me. And no one saw here around after that. I suppose some people just can't take the scene at the Bronze."

Uh. Huh. Right, how can I kill Cordelia? Or at least scare the living bejeezus out of her?

"Who?" asked the guy sat on the other side of Cordelia.

"Buffy," Cordelia said with disdain. I began manoeuvring across the room, taking a route the printout that would incidentally lead me up behind Cordelia.

"The new girl?" Harmony explained in a tone of superiority.

"What's her deal?" the boy asked.

"Total loser," Cordelia, said, with all the certainty of an Old Testament prophet.

"Did you hear about her old school?" Harmony asked. Both of her tiny audience shook their heads. "Booted."

"Well," Cordelia said, leaning back, "I exhibit no surprise." This unfortunately took her eyes off Harmony just as the blonde saw me standing behind Cordelia – unfortunate for Queen C that is.

"Why was she..." The boy saw me and hesitated "Kicked out?" he finished after I smiled thinly at him.

Cordelia gave him a withering look and then caught Harmony's warning gaze and turned to see me looking down on her. I smiled sweetly at the look of surprise that flickered across her face. It's surprising how effective that trick can be, fortunately I was wearing sneakers, not Buffy's preferred heels. It would require a whole new level of stealth to creep up on someone wearing those monstrosities.

I waited as long as I dared for the moment to last and then reached over and scritched Cordy's head, as I would a dog. "You'd be cute if you weren't so boring," I told her softly and they sashayed past her and up to Harmony. "And as for last night," I told the blonde in a whisper as I passed. "All you need to know about me and Willow's activities is that they included two older guys and a private party…"

Then I was past them and moving past Willow, who was looking wide-eyed and blushing at the possible implications of the... slanted... interpretation of last night's events.

"She's a psycho..." Cordelia whimpered.

"Okay," Harmony chirped, "I think the program's done." Maybe I should just nickname her Mihoshi... no, that would make Willow Washu and that would just be bad... I winked at Willow apologetically as she joined me at the printer to collect her own printouts.

"Finally the nightmare ends!" Cordelia said with relief – mostly that the subject had been changed. "Okay, so how do we save it?"

I looked into Willow's eyes and they were laughing but her voice was even as she said, "Deliver."

"Deliver? Where's that?"

The two of us dashed for the door, fighting back giggles as Cordelia pondered.

"Oh!" I heard her say triumphantly just as we left the room. I only wish I had a photo of her face a moment later.

.oOo.

As we entered the library, Giles was hunched over one of his books. "For they will gather and be gathered. From the Vessel pours life," he muttered. "P-pours life…" He turned the page. "On the night of the crescent moon, the first past the solstice it will come..."

He looked up and his eyes met mine.

"Tonight," we said in unison.


	4. The Harvest

A/N

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer is owned by Joss Whedon I believe. Any resemblance to characters depicted here is probably not a coincidence

Well, after almost two weeks, here's the next chapter. The review button is at the bottom of the page, feedback might make me write better, or at least faster.

.oOo.

"Did you find anything of interest?" Giles asked.

Willow nodded and presented him with printouts of several newspaper articles. "I think, maybe..." she said. "I surfed through the old newspapers around the time of that big earthquake back in 'thirty-seven? And for several months before there were a rash of murders."

"Great!" Giles said, leafing through the pile of paper. Then he realised what he'd said and backtracked swiftly. "I-I mean, well not great in a good way –"

"Nineteen thirty-seven?" I asked.

"Uh-huh," Willow agreed. "They sound like the sort of thing you were looking for. Throats, blood…" She made a face at the imagery conjured by those words.

"Huh. Interesting," I said. "Giles, do you remember I said Heinrich Joseph Nest was last seen in Sunnydale? He dropped out of sight that year. I hadn't heard about the earthquake though."

Giles frowned. "It's all coming together. I rather wish that it weren't."

.oOo.

We were still researching when the door of the library swung open. Well, actually Giles and Willow were researching – I was sat cross-legged on the library counter and 'meditating'. Now I can meditate, sort of, but in this case it was a useful excuse for doing nothing while I tried to remember as much as I could about the Harvest and how it had played out 'originally'.

I opened my eyes and turned to see Xander and Jesse walk in.

"Jesse," called Willow. "Are you alright?"

"Uh yeah," he said, still a little pale to my eye. He turned to me. "You saved me – thanks."

I shook my head and bounced off the counter onto my feet. "Xander and Giles did the saving. I just gave them a push in the right direction."

"Oh," he said. "So what's happening? What's with all the books?"

"Well there are these places called libraries..." I began and broke off as everyone threw withering looks in my direction. "Well? What was I supposed to say?"

"How about the end of the world?" Giles asked.

"What? Seriously?"

"This is what we know," Giles explained. "Some sixty years ago, a very old, very powerful vampire called Heinrich Nest came to this shore, not just to feed."

"Because Sunnydale's a mystical who's it?" Xander asked.

"Yes. The Spanish who first settled her called it a 'Boca del Inferno'. Roughly translated. 'Hellmouth'. It's a sort of, um, portal between this world and the next. Nest hopes to open it."

Xander frowned. "And bring the demons back?" he asked.

"Yes," I agreed. "It would mean the end of the world, Jesse."

"I don't like vampires," he said weakly, slumping into a chair. "I'm gonna take a stand and say they're not good." I patted him reassuringly on the shoulder and he smiled up at me weakly.

"But he blew it!" Willow said excitedly. "Or, I mean, there was an earthquake that swallowed half the town and him too."

"You see," Giles took up the explanation again, "Opening dimensional portals is a tricky business. Odds are he got himself stuck, rather like a, uh, cork in a bottle."

"And this Harvest thing is to get him out?"

"It comes once in a century, on this night. Nest – his minions call him The Master – can draw power from one of his minions while it feeds. Enough power to break free and open the portal. The minion is called the Vessel," He picked up a marker and sketched onto a whiteboard behind him, "and he bears this symbol."

I studied the three-pointed star that Giles had drawn. "So if I can kill the Vessel before it feeds…"

"Then the Harvest will fail," he assured me. "The problem will be finding the Vessel. There, there are a number of possibilities for where the Harvest will take place."

"They're going to the Bronze," Xander said confidently.

"Are you sure," Willow asked.

"It'd be my first guess," I said. "Prime hunting and this is Friday night – all the prey they could ask for. Xander's right." He looked flattered.

"Then we should go," Giles said, grabbing his jacket. "The sun will be down before long."

"Alright," I agreed. "I'll need to pick up some weapons so I'll meet you outside." I looked at the others. "I'm going to need your help. The vampires will seal all the exits once they're in. They won't want anyone to escape and I can't do anything about that while I'm fighting the Vessel. So if we don't get there in time to stop them from getting into the Bronze, I'll need you to open as many of the doors as you can."

One by one they stood to follow my Watcher and I into battle.

"Thanks," I whispered and my eyes grew misty for a moment. Darn this dusty library.

.oOo.

I didn't slip discreetly into 1630 Revello Drive. Ninety percent of the time successful sneaking is best achieved by pretending that you not only _can_ be where you are and doing what you are, but that you most absolutely _should_ be.

And since I now live in the house I would imagine I'm allowed to walk around it without getting too much hassle.

Joyce was in the kitchen so I went there first and explained that the school librarian had agreed that I could study there this evening until he went home, which would be late, but not _too_ late. Since I did need to do some catching up, would it be alright for me to do so. There would be a few other students there, yes, but also adult supervision...

Not only did I get permission to skip dinner and go back to the library but I also got a verbal pat on the head for being conscientious and a mildly phrased warning that Joyce would be watching my grades for evidence of this studying.

Well, I'd worry about that if I survived the night. Hopefully it would explain any differences in academic performance between myself and Buffy – she was taking French apparently, which is bad since I dropped it when I was fourteen to concentrate on German. That grade's about to plummet I suspect...

I went upstairs to pack a bag with a few useful items. I still had a couple of stakes in the chest at the back of Buffy's closet, a little holy water and a couple of easily wielded crucifixes. I'd have to look into arranging a supply of holy water somehow. It's not part of my cultural background so I've no idea how one goes about obtaining it. A few more weapons probably wouldn't hurt. I pulled out a notebook and was scribbling a short 'to-do' list when Dawn interrupted me.

"You're going out?" she asked bluntly.

"That's the plan," I said, closing the notebook and dropping it into my bag with a couple of textbooks to disguise the fact that it was otherwise stuffed with tools of my trade.

"You told Mom you were going to the library," she said sceptically. "You don't think she's really gonna believe that do you?"

I considered that. "Well given that I'll have the librarian and three other students to back me up – plus the fact that I've actually spent quite a bit in the library since I started at this school – she's entirely welcome to check on me." I smiled at her. "So will you be up to much tonight?"

"Homework," she grumbled.

"Same here," I reassured her. "And probably more of it. Now, with my record, do you really think the Principal wouldn't call Mom if I wasn't completing my homework?"

Dawn scowled. "You've changed," she accused.

"Yeah," I nodded. "Sorry, did you think I'd go back to being an empty-headed cheerleader? That's not me anymore."

"Yeah right! You're just getting into trouble again," she accused "Last time Dad left and we had to come here. Why'd you have to make things worse?"

"I didn't cause that, Dawn," I said quietly. "I didn't help much, I'll admit. But it's not my fault any more than it is yours."

"Liar! You're why Mom and Dad started arguing! This is all your fault!" she shouted.

I narrowed my eyes. "Dawn -" I began

"I hate you!" she shrieked and tried to slap me.

I blocked reflexively and then caught her other hand in mine. "Stop that," I snapped and whirled her around, wrapping my arms around her and pinning her arms by her sides.

That, naturally, was when Joyce came in. "What's going on?" she demanded. "Buffy! Let go of your sister this instant."

I looked down at the back of Dawn's head. "Are you gonna try to hit me again?"

"This instant!" snapped Joyce.

I directed a withering gaze at her. "Well?"

"No," Dawn muttered, and I opened my arms to let her go.

"What is going on here?"

"Buffy's gonna get into trouble again!" Dawn shouted.

I fixed a patient expression on my face and said nothing.

"Buffy?"

"Dawn believes that my going to the library is a ruse intended to cause trouble," I said calmly. "She then informed me that I am responsible for the divorce and for us moving here and tried to slap me." I shrugged. "Up until then it was reasonably civilised for one of our arguments."

"And you grabbed her?" Joyce said sternly.

"My alternatives were to get slapped or to stop her from hitting me. Pinning her arms seemed the most effective way to do that without hurting her," I said calmly.

Joyce looked us both over. "Dawn, go to your room," she said firmly. Buffy's sister – _my_ sister – looked about to protest but then looked at Joyce's face and sulked quietly out of the room.

"I'm really disappointed in you, Buffy," Joyce said.

"For what? For defending myself? For doing that _without_ hurting Dawn?" I asked reasonably.

"Violence doesn't settle anything, Buffy," she said firmly.

"I'll be sure to tell that to the Confederated States of America and to the Nationalist Socialist Worker's Party – if I can find any of them," I told her flatly. "It's not my preferred option Mom, but when you're attacked you either fight back or you accept the right of an aggressor to use violence. If I'd slapped her back then you'd be right to criticise me. I didn't."

"Now then," I said, lifting my bag. "It seems to me that Dawn needs to talk to someone about how she feels about being here and about you and Dad getting divorced. She won't talk to me – she blames me for both. So I suggest that you try to find out why she believes that strongly enough to attack me. I'll be back in a couple of hours - if you want to yell at me, or to sit down and talk about this, we can do it when we've all calmed down a little."

Joyce considered that. "Alright. But back here in two hours and please…"

I turned back to look at her.

"Don't get into trouble?" she asked tentatively.

I grinned. "Okay, no trouble."

.oOo.

Okay, add the time saved by not getting grounded, then subtract the time taken up by Dawn's little hissy fit...

I'll be brief; I got to the Bronze just in time to see the door closing behind the vampire posse and just too late to be spotted. Jesse, Giles, Willow and Xander arrived only seconds later, their slower pace compensated for by a more direct route from the school.

"Locked," I said flatly, testing the door.

"We're too late!" Giles groaned.

"They haven't had long," I commented calmly. "Right – other doors, fire exits and the like?"

"There's one around the side," Jesse said, pointing.

"Splendid," I said, glancing around. "Right then. Can any of you three drive?"

Xander raised his hand sheepishly. "Sort of."

"I'm only asking for a Kenyan driving test," I assured him. "Right, can any of you hotwire a car?"

Giles and Willow raised their hands and then lowered them quickly.

"Err..." he said, "product of a mis-spent youth."

Willow blushed. "It's just electronics," she said. "It's not difficult."

I didn't have to think hard. "Right then. Willow, hotwire a car – a truck if you can find one – for Xander. Xander, give me five minutes and ram whatever Willow hotwires into the door – it may or may not break the son of a bitch open but it'll sure get the vampire's attention. When you're done with that run for your lives. If all goes well we'll meet you back at the library in an hour or so. Here," I passed Willow my bag, now containing only books. "Take this for me will you?"

"Jesse, show Giles where the door is and help him out." I passed him a crucifix and my bottle of holy water, and then passed the other crucifix and one stake to Giles. "Giles, put that mis-spent youth of yours to use and open the back door. Your job is to get the kids out. If you have to fight then hit hard, hit fast and run like hell. Clear?"

"Jawohl my fuhrer!" Jesse said, throwing a parade-ground (American) salute.

"There are _so_ any things wrong with what you just said –" I began. From inside I heard the music cut off and Luke's voice. I couldn't make out what he was saying exactly, but I got the general idea. "Crap, they're starting. Get moving!" I turned and then looked back at Xander. "Xander? Screw five minutes – soon as you can. Okay?"

Then I ran for the corner and began to climb up the side of the building towards the lowest of the windows.

.oOo.

The window was open, which meant I could open it and sneak in without all that tedious breaking of glass. The leverage for that could get a bit tricky when I was hanging off the corner of the roof with one hand. And more to the point it would make enough noise to have every vampire in the club waiting for my by the time I got my feet on the floor.

There were... five of them. Luke and four minions. I didn't see Darla – hopefully the holy water plus the injuries I'd inflicted previously had left her temporarily _hors de combat_. And I'd probably better not use that phrase around Xander, had I?

Anyway. One minion was on the top level with me and the other three were on the lower level, picking out victims for Luke from the night's patrons. They were all downstairs so the fellow up top was probably a lookout. The man himself was on the stage and looking very buff. He'd also finished draining a large black man in a wifebeater T-shirt and was moving on to his next candidate, a girl around my own current age.

I closed in on the lookout, moving quietly across the abandoned balcony. Fortunately the whimpering and wailing from down below masked what little noise I made.

What it didn't mask was the sound of Xander driving the nose of somebody's SUV straight into the doors of the Bronze. He couldn't quite get the vehicle inside but I have to give him credit, he was trying real hard.

For just a moment someone was looking at where the doors had just been battered halfway off their hinges. When it came down to it, it didn't change anything – no one was getting out that way unless the climbed over the SUV, but it did give me an opening to stake look out boy in the back before anyone could say 'look out behind you!'

Grabbing up a chair I vaulted the rail and landed next to one of the other vampires. The chair came down on his head. Both broke – his head would have heal I supposed but a broken chair made an nifty substitute for an extra long stake when I introduced it to him. I hope they'll be very happy together since most of the chair went with him when he vanished in a cloud of dust.

"You!" Luke shouted, throwing aside his half-drained victim. No fool, she began to crawl slowly away.

I lifted a pool cue from the rack and spun it in one hand to distract him from the girl. "How sweet, you remember me!"

"You fought me... and lived," he replied, and shrugged off his jacket. "It's the sort of thing I remember."

"You've either got a hell of a memory or a real vicious streak, Junior," I told him and flipped the pool cue in my hand before throwing it like a javelin at the nearest vampire.

Luke snarled as another of his group turned to dust. "Guess which."

"Well," I smiled. "You're as ugly as an elephant but I guess you're probably not as smart as one. Think that covers the feeble banter stage of the fight? Cuz' I've got a curfew to keep so..." He lunged off the stage at me so I guess he understood how that can be. I guess the Master can be a bit of an overbearing parent at times...

I met him the heel of my hand to his chin that brought him to a crashing halt, as his head snapped back and his feet went out from under him and my arm almost tore from it's socket with the impact. I slammed one foot down onto his nearest ankle but didn't have enough mass to do any real damage against his supernatural resilience. He swept his legs at my own ankles and forced me back enough for him to come to his feet.

"And like a plague of boils, the race of man covered the Earth," he quoted. "But on the third day of the newest light would come the Harvest." Luke slammed into me with a combo that drove me back towards the crowd and then caught hold of my right shoulder long enough to hurl me into their midst. "And the blood of men will flow as wine."

I struggled free of the crowd – who definitely seemed thinner on the ground than I'd expected – right into a punch that clipped me round the side of the head and dropped me to the ground. I grasped his knee and hauled as I rose back to my feet, flinging Luke into the air and then onto his back with an audible crack and hopefully severe groin strain. The expression on his face certainly seemed to involved that something hurt.

Grabbing hold of his ankles I wrenched his legs apart and unlimbered a kick right between the goal posts and elicited a bellow of pain that was quite encouraging. I took advantage of his distraction to drag him in a short arc across the floor and then up into a hammer throw that sent him skimming across the dance floor into a face to wall encounter with the stage.

He shook his head and stood once more. "I will drink your blood, Slayer! And the Master will walk among us once more!" He grinned nastily and added, "I've _always_ wanted to kill a Slayer."

"It's a tough life, junior," I replied as I tested my shoulder to make sure I could use still use that arm. "We don't always get what we want."

We closed in on each other – Luke using his height and weight, trying to close in on me while I danced around him, going for his knees and elbows, hoping to take out the joints and hamper him a bit. It wasn't going terribly well.

Catching hold of one of his backhand swipes, I hammered three kicks into the vampire's abdomen, barely fazing him. He grunted, reversed the hold and slung me into a pile of cardboard boxes that crumpled under my weight. I shook my head and kipped up to cartwheel out of the path of his follow up. A spin kick sent him staggering and then the fight was on again.

Vampire resilience was paying off against me – the Slayer package is good but it has limits and it felt like I was fighting against Wolverine, except without the claws. No matter what I did, he just kept coming.

I whooped in exhalation as he landed a high kick below my ribs . The follow up was obvious but I was too dazed to dodge the uppercut that slammed into my jaw and hurled me off my feet to the ground.

Rolling over, I brought my knees under me and was about to rise when strong arms seized me and lifted me off my feet, wrapping around me like steel bands. "The Earth will belong to the old ones," Luke whispered into my ear. "And Hell itself will come to town."

I struggled against the vampire's grip but he had my upper arms pinned, depriving me of any serious leverage. At these close quarters I could swear I heard his fangs extend to their full length as he opened his jaws wide. "Master! Taste of this and beAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGH!"

The scream by the way, was the most audible result of my palming the crucifix dangling from my wrist (Thanks, Angel!) and slapping it against the back of his hand.

Luke's wrenching the hand away from mne loosened his grip and I slithered out of my jacket, leaving him holding the empty garment and cursing at the burns on his hand. Grabbing the other hand I dragged it behind his back and closed both hands around it, closing it on the little silver cross. Jesse, who had an excellent view from where he was dragging Cordelia out of the Bronze swears he saw Luke's eye go as wide as saucers a second after I dragged his arm back. I think we can all guess why, can't we?

I didn't waste any time congratulating myself though. He couldn't _easily_ turn while I held his arm twisted like that but I couldn't hold him for long. Putting my protesting shoulder against his back I charged him forwards into the bar, which caught him at waist height and drove air out of him, persuading him that he had more important things to do that hold onto my jacket.

Loosing his hand from between mine, I flipped Luke over the bar by the seat of his pants, letting him crash down behind it. I almost bounced up and onto the bar, kicking several bottles that looked sort of familiar down onto him They broke most satisfactorily and he was swearing in what I think was Spanish as he stumbled up to his knees with broken glass spilling off of him. I don't know Spanish well but I pretty sure what 'puta' means and I don't like that sort of language.

I lifted a small package from the end of the bar.

"Feeling a bit moist?" I asked.

He growled. "No holy water? Did you use it all on Darla?"

I feigned surprised. "It's not burning? Well, give it a minute – or maybe," I added slashing the heads of the book of matches I'd snatched from the bar across the stake I'd recovered from the inside pocket of my jacket. "- it just needs some help." I threw the burning matches underarm at him and he instinctive tried to bat them aside with one sodden arm.

The arm, naturally, ignited. So did the rest of him.

I donned my jacket, noted that the other vampire was gone (I later found out that Giles staked him after Jesse doused him with the Holy Water) and went to get the fire extinguisher.

.oOo.

Willow and Xander were waiting in the library when we got back.

"Did we win?" Willow asked as she passed back my bag.

"Yeah," I said. "No Harvest, only one victim died." I ran my fingers through my hair and then saw her face blanch at the morose response. "Don't mean it like that. We did good, the Master didn't rise."

"Indeed," Giles agreed. "The Apocalypse has been averted."

"And as far as anyone knows," I added. "We weren't there."

"What?" Xander asked. "We'd be heroes."

"We'd also be felons," I pointed out.

Jesse nodded. "Breaking and entering, joyriding..."

"Not being in the library when I told my Mom..." I looked at the others puzzled expressions. "What? My mom's way scarier than the Sunnydale Police Department. Good job Giles will play alibi boy for us."

"But..." Xander protested.

"Sorry, bro," Jesse told him. "I gotta agree with Buffy on this one. Sure, we have a story guaranteed to make any girl living to think we are cool upon cool. But we're gonna have to Clark Kent our way through the dating scene, never to using our unfair advantage."

"I feel your pain," I assured him. "Did you see what Cordelia was wearing?" From Jesse's expression he had. Tiny little skirt, tiny little top. Looked real nice.

.oOo.

"Well I heard it was rival gangs. You know, fighting for turf?" Cordelia told one of her sheep the next Monday. "But all I can tell you is they were an ugly way of looking. And Buffy, like, knew them. Which is just too weird. I mean –"

"Taking my name in vain?" I asked from behind her.

"Excuse me?" Cordy asked. "Who gave you permission to exist?"

"Speak my name and the Buffy shall appear," I told her cheerfully. "So, who do I know? Someone else moved here from L.A.?"

"Those freaks from Friday night at the Bronze," she snorted. "I don't even remember that much, but you were right in the middle of that freak show."

"Damn, I've really gotta invite myself to some of these wild parties you go to Cordelia," I grinned. "Unfortunately I was in the school library that evening, catching up on my math. So it couldn't have been me."

"Well," she said. "You both should have been there. It was so creepy!"

"Right," I assured her. "You just... stay away from whatever you were drinking that night, okay? You can seriously fuck yourself up with that crap." I patted her arm reassuringly and sauntered off, leaving a very angry Cordelia Chase behind me.

.oOo.

"What, exactly, were you expecting?" I asked Xander a few minutes later.

"I don't know," he sighed. "I mean, the dead rose. We should at least have an assembly."

"Believe me, official attention to the supernatural is a bad thing," I assured him.

"How come?" Jesse asked, raising one hand in greeting as he, Willow and Giles joined us.

"Witch hunts, inquisitions, perfectly innocent witches getting burnt at the stake..." I suggested. "What's that line from Men in Black? A person can be intelligent but people as a group tend to form mobs and they're only as smart as the dumbest person in them."

"Perhaps fortunately," Giles said, "People have a tendency to rationalise what they can and forget what they can't."

""Well, I'll never forget it, none of it," Willow declared.

"Good! Next time you'll be prepared."

"Next time?" asked the other three teenagers in a chorus of dismay.

"We've prevented the Master from freeing himself and opening the Mouth of Hell. That's not to say he's going to stop trying," Giles pointed out. "I'd say the fun is just beginning."

"More vampires?" Willow asked incredulously.

"Could be," I shrugged. "We've only taken out half a dozen or so – there are hundreds or thousands of them around. Or it could be something else entirely."

"Aren't you being a little blasé about this, Buffy?" Giles protested. "We're at the centre of a mystical convergence here. We may, in fact, stand between the Earth and it's total destruction."

I grinned. "Well what's to worry about? I've got my Buds," I said, putting my arms around Willow and Xander's shoulders, nodding to Jesse to include him. "You're with me, right guys?"

"Right!" "Sure!" "Y-yes."

"And I've got my Watcher," I pointed out. "I can count on your support, right?"

"Absolutely," Giles assured me.

.oOo.

"This is madness!" Giles ranted. "What can you have been thinking? You are the Slayer! Lives depend upon you!" He paced back and forth across the library floor, working himself up into a state of righteous indignation. "I make allowance for your youth, but I thought you had certain amount of responsibility, and instead of which, you enslave yourself to this, this… cult?"

I looked down at my clothes. No, they hadn't managed to transform into ominous robes or anything like that, I was still wearing a cheerleader outfit. Frankly, robes would have been an improvement but I was damned if I'd let Giles see that. I pumped my arms, waving the pompoms gently and chanting, "Slay, slay, slay, slay!"

Giles groaned. "Do you, um, do you ignore everything I say as, as a rule?"

"Actually I pay very close attention," I assured him. "I just don't _obey_ everything you say, as a rule. Come on, Giles, all I'm doing is trying out for the cheerleading squad!"

"You have a sacred birthright, Buffy," Giles cozened. "You were chosen to destroy vampires, not to… please stop waving those pom-poms."

"Sorry," I said, not very repentantly.

"As your Watcher, I forbid it."

"You did get that bit about 'not obeying everything you say', didn't you?" I asked as I headed for the door. "Anyway, I'm off to patrol for vampires at the cheerleader tryouts. Seeya!"

"The Earth is doomed!" he groaned from behind me.


	5. A Witch Shall Be Born

A/N

Disclaimer: Believe it or not, I'm not really Joss Whedon in disguise. I'm just me and I don't own these characters or the TV series they come from.

Thought for the day: The emptier your head is, the more room there is to pack with dreams.

.oOo.

It had been a couple of weeks since the Harvest and I'd pretty much settled down into Sunnydale and the life of Buffy Summers, Vampire Slayer. Which wasn't to say that I hadn't spent several hours in perplexed brooding over why I was here and what the Sam Hill was going on.

It might seem strange that I wasn't too worried about leaving my own life behind, but to be honest it didn't have all that much to recommend it. Oh, it was better than a kick in the teeth, but I had little prospect of advancement and was the stuff that lifelong bachelors are made of. My family and I stayed in touch but we all had our own lives and in truth had little but blood in common... You get the idea.

Over the weeks I'd caught up in most of my classes and settled into a comfortable routine of combat training and homework during my free periods. Patrol time was more difficult and I generally just snuck out after Mom went to bed in order to scout the cemeteries. I _had_ visited the Bronze four times over the two weeks and only spotted two vampires in total, both of whom I tracked until they went underground and then staked.

The last of those had been more than a week ago and I was considering scouting out a few more locations for regular patrolling. Giles' work with the obituaries aside, the best way of keeping the vampire population from expanding would be to make abduction of victims too dangerous for the existing vampires.

Vampires, however, were not the only problem that I could expect to encounter on the Hellmouth and it was with that in mind that I'd decided to try out as a cheerleader.

Jesse and Xander were, of course, delighted by the opportunity to provide moral support and ogle the tryouts, while Willow's motives were presumably a little more pure in accompanying me to the gym.

"Giles didn't approve, huh?" she asked.

I shook my head. "I get the feeling he'd prefer diabolism to cheerleading – I'm not sure I understand his priorities."

"Dia-whatism?" Jesse asked absently, his head tracking on one girl doing something gymnastic.

"Diabolism, the worship of the devil. Which _would_ be a rather bad idea, I'll admit," I said.

"Well, we're behind you," Willow offered in support.

"People scoff at things like school spirit, but look at these girls giving their all like this!" Xander exclaimed. He stared at… I think her name is Amber… who was doing some sort of splits involving two chairs that looked quite painful. The boy zoned out for a moment, practically drooling. "Ooo, stretchy! Where was I?"

"You were pretending that seeing scantily-clad girls in revealing postures was a spiritual experience," Willow explained to him.

"Yeah," Jesse added. "You were totally drooling, bro."

"Who said I was pretending?" he protested.

"Whatever raises your… spirit," I teased him. Willow blushed.

Xander flushed. "Oh, hey!" he said, producing something from his pocket. "Here's a good luck thing for tryouts." He passed me a bracelet.

"What's that?" Willow asked as I examined it quizzically.

Jeez, between Angel and Xander I'm certainly not gonna need to buy my own jewellery around here. There was something written on it and I twisted it to take a closer look. " 'Yours Always' ?" I asked.

"I-I-it came that way," Xander stammered. Jesse sniggered. "Really! They all said that!"

I raised one eyebrow and decided to accept that, for now. Besides, I thought, I could work the chain from my improvised crucifix bracelet around it, which would provide that with a little more support. I was fiddling with that when Cordelia arrived.

"Just look at that Amber," she sneered. "Who does she think she is, a Laker Girl?"

Whu? I frowned and let Jesse move round me to get closer to Cordelia. Looking at Amber, she was certainly very… limber.

"I heard she turned them down," Willow told Cordelia. I suppose she must have been referring to some sort of cheerleading team.

Fortunately the conversation was diverted away from anything that could have revealed my near total lack of knowledge that any real teenage girl would have absorbed by osmosis by now, when one of the girls already on the cheerleading squad called for everyone's attention.

"Okay, listen up!" she called. "Let's begin with… Amber Grove. If you're not auditioning, move off the floor."

The crowd began to move up into the seating and Willow called out to one of the girls to join us. "I didn't know you wanted to be a cheerleader!" Willow told her. "You lost a lot of weight!"

"Had to," she said shortly.

"Buffy, do you know Amy?" Willow asked.

Oh! This was her then. I looked at her measuringly. There was a certain hardness to her expression that lent weight to my expectations. "Hi!"

"Hi," she replied and added something about hating the wait, which I didn't quite catch.

Amber started her routine, which was… very athletic I guess. I don't really know cheerleading but she looked a lot livelier out there than she had doing her exercises. I guess she really got into it. Makes sense I guess. I'm not exactly a performer but attitude is as important as form, at least doing this stuff solo. It didn't seem odd that I was looking at her closely – everybody was – but I might have been the only one in the gym who'd never actually seen cheerleading before. I'd looked through some of Buffy's books the night before and gotten a basic idea of the terminology and the forms, but the real trick would be duplicating the forms here. Amber wasn't doing anything that I couldn't match or better – hey, I'm the Slayer, right? – so the main trick would be the attitude.

I can do attitude.

"She trained with Benson," Amy whispered to me. "He's one of the best coaches money can buy."

"She's good," I agreed, not letting it dent my confidence. "So do you have a coach, too?"

"Oh yeah! Don't you have?" Amy asked in surprise. "I train with my mom, three hours in the morning, three at night."

"Heavy schedule," I said, slightly impressed. Wonder how she fits in homework around that – oh wait, her 'Mom' does that. "Don't know if I'd spend that much time with my Mom. Probably there'd be a murder involved if we tried."

"Oh, I know it's hokey," Amy said. "But she's really great."

Our conversation was interrupted by Cordelia snorting in Amber's direction and turning her back dramatically. I glanced in her direction and then wrinkled my nose. Was that smoke I could smell?

I looked around and saw what I'd been worried about. Smoke was visibly coming from Amber. I wrenched open the zip on my gym bag, thankful that Giles had been able to help me with my supplies of slayage equipment.

"That girl's on fire!" Willow gasped as Amber's hands began to smoke. She apparently couldn't feel it because she kept waving her pompoms

"Enough of the hyperbole!" Cordelia scowled, looking at Willow but carefully not looking at Amber herself, obviously miffed at the show of competence by her competition.

I pulled a soda bottle out of my bag and was two steps from the stands when Amber screamed, and dropped her pompoms, which were replaced by billowing flames coming from her hands. She raised them instinctively getting the fire as far away from her as she could manage.

"Fire extinguisher!" I shouted as I barrelled across the floor and collided with her. I just couldn't reach her hands while they were raised – Amber's quite a bit taller than me. Knocking her over, I ripped the plastic bottle in two, spilling most of the contents over the other girl's hands, then using the remains in either side of the bottle to ensure her hands and lower arms were thoroughly doused.

The flames were rapidly extinguished under the flow of holy water. You didn't think I was really carrying two litres of lemonade around with me, did you?

"It's okay," I reassured the weeping cheerleader, holding her wrists gently to keep her from damaging her scorched hands. "You're going to be okay."

.oOo.

"Well," I said as I paced around the library. "Flaming hands… in all my months of Vampire Slaying I've not come across that one before."

"I imagine not," Giles said absently as he came out of the book cage.

"Doesn't seem like a vampire thing," Jesse said. "I mean, they don't like fire, right?"

"Quite," agreed Giles in an abstracted tone.

"Paranormal though," I concluded. "You have something on that in the books, Giles?"

"A little," he confirmed. "Spontaneous human combustion is, is rare, and, and scientifically unexplainable, but there have been cases for hundreds of years. Usually all that's left is a pile of ashes."

"That's all that would have been left if it hadn't been for Buffy," Willow pointed out.

"Yeah, and I'll need some more Holy Water, by the way, Giles."

"I gave you almost two litres, Buffy!" he complained.

"Would you rather I'd let Amber's hands burn away?" I asked rhetorically. "It was in a good cause Giles."

"So, we have no idea what caused this," Xander complained. "That's a comfort."

"But that's the thrill of living on the Hellmouth!" Giles protested. "There's a veritable cornucopia of, of fiends and devils and, and ghouls to engage." Xander looked appalled and I shot Giles a tolerant look. "Pardon me for finding the glass half full."

"I'm not sure how spontaneous Amber's combustion was," I said, going back to our original topic, "but that's obviously got to be checked out. Are there any common denominators we can check for?"

"Uh, rage," Giles suggested. "In most cases the person who combusted was, was terribly angry or upset."

"She didn't look upset," Jesse said. "Cordy was, but Amber was pretty cheerful."

I shrugged. "I guess it's time to do some investigating then. Are you guys in?"

"Sure we are! We're a team! Aren't we a team?" Xander protested.

"Yeah, you're the Slayer, and we're, like, the Slayerettes!"

"Okay," I grinned as Jesse nodded firmly to show his agreement with the others. "Well the first thing is to look into Amber, see if she's had any trouble like this before. Any ideas how we could find out?"

"Uh, I could hack into the school's computer system," Willow suggested.

"I'll ask around about her," Jesse offered.

"Okay," I agreed. "Xander, can you help Jesse with that?"

"Sure."

"And Giles, see if you can find any other possible causes. Let's not get all tunnel vision about this, okay? If Amber isn't causing these problems herself…"

"Then we have to determine who or what did," Giles told us. "And, uh, deal with it accordingly."

"_Before_ anyone else gets hurt," I added firmly.

.oOo.

When I got home I found several wooden boxes and crates occupied the kitchen. Joyce was wrestling with one and even with the help of a crowbar it looked like the crate's lid was winning.

"I thought we'd already unpacked everything," I said as I leant on the doorframe.

"Oh, hi," she said, lowering the crowbar for a moment. "This is for the tribal art display."

I looked around and spotted several pieces that had already been unpacked. "Oh, right. You want a hand with that?"

"Thank you," Joyce said in a tone of surprise. "I'm just trying to get this lid off." I nodded and took the crowbar off her, then examined the lid, looking for a space to get some good leverage. "So, how was school."

"Okay," I replied. "There was an accident at the tryouts so they had to reschedule them." I picked a spot and inserted the crowbar.

"Oh, I know you'll do fine," Joyce assured me.

I grunted as I pulled on the bar and popped the lid of the crate easily. "Looks pretty competitive," I admitted, then pulled the lid off. So what's this one?" I lifted the contents up as Mom checked her clipboard.

"Keep on pluggin', just have to get back on the horse," she said comfortingly. "I think that that's a… oh dear."

I looked down at the little statue in my hand and pulled a face. "Looks like some sort of fertility statue. Uh, let's not let Dawn see it, eh?" I suggested as I lowered the little monstrosity back into the crate. I mean, ick!

"Good idea," she said and passed me the lid, asking "So what was it you were trying out for?" in an obvious attempt to change the subject.

"Cheerleading," I said casually.

"Oh good! I'm glad you're taking that up again, it'll keep you out of trouble."

I blinked. "I wasn't aware I'd _been_ in trouble, at least not since we got here."

"No, not yet."

"I'm... underwhelmed by your faith in me," I said sardonically, applying the crowbar to another crate.

"Sorry," she said, "I'm a bit distracted with this inventory, that wasn't exactly what I meant."

"Excited about the big show?" I asked with a grin. "You're not really gonna put that thing on display, are you?"

"Well, maybe not," Joyce concurred. "At least, not too prominently. What I meant was, you stopped cheerleading just before the trouble, so it's good you're going back."

"Well at least you're not being as gung-ho about this as some of the other cheerleader's Moms," I said. "One of them said she trained six hours a day with her Mom for this."

"Sounds like she has far too much time on her hands," Joyce said.

"Sounds like a whole lot of pressure," I said dryly. "Speaking of which, the homework monster is lurking in my bag so I'd better go slay it before dinner."

"Slay the homework monster?" Joyce asked in surprise as I left the kitchen. "I just don't understand that girl," I heard her add, to herself.

.oOo.

"Despite the terrible thing that happened yesterday," Joy told us all in the gym the next day. "We still have to pick new cheerleaders. If you make the team you'll find your names posted in the quad after lunch." She checked her clipboard. "Let's begin with group performance."

"Why do my hands have to sweat when I get nervous?" Amy whispered to me.

"It softens your hands, helps you get a closer grip on rough surfaces," I told her. "A holdover from when we lived in trees."

She blinked. "Really?"

"No," I admitted. "I just made that up. Stopped you panicking there though, didn't it?"

Amy stared at me for a moment in disbelief. "You're joking around?"

I grinned. "You'll do fine."

.oOo.

Well, I slightly underestimated Catherine's ability to cheerlead in Amy's body. She did okay, except for the cartwheel she flubbed and wound up kicking Cordelia in the arse, but she wasn't standing out. Somehow I didn't think she'd make it onto the team. Although if teamwork counted, neither would Cordelia. For all her sucking up to Joy, Cordelia showboated more than a little.

I'd been quite a bit more relaxed and surprised to find that Cheerleading could actually be a bit of fun. I'd expected to have trouble on the group performance, but Slayer reflexes kicked in and I was able to correct any miscues before they got obvious. I suppose the fact I didn't really care about making the team kept my tension down as well.

Once I'd got changed back into my usual clothes – black jeans, boots and a brightly coloured T-shirt – I spotted Amy in the hall, admiring something in one of the trophy cabinets. I went over to take a look for myself and realised she was looking at her Mom's picture – her own picture rather. Quite the narcissist, Cathy Madison.

"That's my mom!" she said, pointing at the picture.

I nodded and glanced at the picture. I'd taken a look earlier to make sure I'd recognise her and, surprise surprise, the picture hadn't changed much. Catherine Madison. I wonder what her married name was. Suppose I could ask Willow, she'd probably know.

"Looks like she was pretty good," I said absently.

"'Pretty good'?" she responded angrily. "She took that team and made them tri-county champions. No one's _ever_ done that before or since!"

"Whoa, okay," I protested, raising my hands defensively. "It's a big deal! I get it, okay?" 'Amy' subsided slightly. "So, she coached you?" I asked as a peace offering. "Does she do that professionally or is it just you?"

"Just me," Amy agreed, mollified slightly. "She married dad right after graduation – they were Homecoming King and Queen."

Knowing part of the later story of that marriage I winced. "Married right out of high school...? Not up there with good ideas in my book. How'd it work out?"

She sneered. "He was a big loser. Never made any money. Ran off with Miss Trailer Trash when I was twelve."

"But you're pretty tight with your Mom, right?" I asked. "I mean, Willow said you'd lost weight – did she help you with a diet or something?"

"Yeah, she's the best. You know she's never gained a single pound?"

"Wow." I have to admire that sort of discipline. It's scary – I couldn't do that without the slayer metabolism helping out. I eat like a horse, except with more meat. "And you want to be just like her? Except the whole married part?"

Amy slumped. "But I can't get my body to _move_ like hers! I choked in there so bad!"

I didn't say anything for a moment and she looked at me curiously. "Do you want a platitude," I asked. "Or the truth?"

"Truth," she said flatly.

"Yeah, you choked," I said. "Are you giving up?"

"No!" she snapped.

"Good," I told her. "Who dares, wins, y'know? You'll get there."

"Hi Amy," said Willow, walking up to us.

"Hey," Cathy replied, turning to leave. "I'm gonna get changed," she said and headed for the locker-room.

Willow looked at Amy's back. "Is she okay?"

"We were talking about her Mom," I replied absently and gestured at the trophy case.

"Yeah, her mom's kinda..." Willow trailed off, looking for a word. "She's real strict."

"Look at me not being surprised," I said. "Is she big on diets and that sort of stuff?"

"Oh yeah," Willow agreed. "If she gains an ounce she padlocks the fridge and won't eat anything but broth. Amy used to come over to my house when that happened and we'd stuff ourselves with brownies – we used to hang in Junior High."

I nodded. It looked like my expectations of what might be going on were being fulfilled. Matters were following the course of the show and I was going to be the wild card in the deck. Once again I wondered who the players in this game were. "Not much for following Mommy's diets then?"

"No, they don't really get on," Willow confirmed. "Amy's nice though."

"Uh huh. So, found any dirt on Miss Flamey Hands?"

"Nothing thrilling," she told me. "Average student. Got detention once, for smoking." I raised my eyebrows and she hastily clarified: "Regular smoking... with a cigarette, not, like, being smokey."

I nodded my understanding.

"All pretty normal," Willow concluded.

"Yeah," I agreed. "Well, we'll have to see what happens. Maybe it's not her at all."

.oOo.

I didn't bother trying to push through the crowd clustered around the board as Joy posted her list. Sure, I _could_ have, but what would be the point? The list would still be there in a few minutes when everyone else had gotten a look. Sometimes other people really puzzle me.

"I can't take this," Amy muttered from where she was stood next to me. And may I say that she was wearing an incredibly ugly blouse. Obvious Catherine Madison hadn't updated her fashion sense since she graduated high school.

Xander came up behind us. "Cover me," he said, stepping between us and into the crowd. "I'm goin' in." He disappeared into the herd of adolescent females and from the glares her was receiving I'd be amazed if he made it out alive.

A moment later Cordelia emerged from one side of the crowd, her face thunderous. "You!" she snapped. Glaring and Amy and I. "This is your fault. You're gonna regret this."

I clapped my hands together in the manner of an oriental priest. "It is fate," I proclaimed, then paused in thought. "So, what particular everyday feat of mine has you so green with envy, Cordelia? I mean, I know I'm prettier than you, but you've had weeks to get used to that."

She glared at me and stalked off.

"You think I made it?" Amy asked hopefully.

"Dunno," I shrugged. Weird, this was not what I'd expected. "But I'm pretty sure that _she_ didn't."

Xander surpassed my expectations and emerged relatively unscathed from the crowd. "One of those girls hit me really hard! You should test for steroids," he complained and I grinned. "What does alternate mean?" he asked.

"I'm an alternate," I said, nodding. That sounded right.

"Uh, no. But Amy is the third alternate. Your name's on the list above that," Xander explained.

Amy glared at me and left in disappointment. I slapped my forehead and went into the crowd to look for myself, hoping that I hadn't messed things up too badly. Behind me, I heard Willow begin to explain to Xander the significance of being an alternate, as opposed to being on the team.

Looking at the list, the outcome became clear. Cordelia was down as first alternate, two places above Amy and I was on the list of girls who'd managed to join the cheerleading team. Oops. Giles was gonna be even more PO'ed now.

.oOo.

Well so much for my future knowledge paying off – Cordelia had been supposed to make the team, not me, and now the course of events had been thrown off I had very little idea what was going on. (And how in the hell did I make the team? I know squat about cheerleading, especially compared to the real Buffy. But she was an alternate and I was on the squad? Weird.)

Of course, I knew who was responsible for what was going on – but confronting a witch up front was not on my list of real smart things to do.

So, obviously I could expect to get round to it sooner rather than later. The boredom of my old life seems so much more appealing these days. Grass is always greener, I suppose.

Anyway, in order to be on site for Cordelia's little incident I'd arranged to be in Driver's Ed with her the next day. Of course, since I was now the absolute last person she wanted anything to do with, this could be remarkably unpleasant.

As you can tell, I had a few things on my mind as I wandered over to the car. "Nice of you to join us," Ms Summers," snapped the teacher. "We're not keeping you waiting are we? It's your turn to drive." He opened the passenger door to the car and climbed in. "Okay, people, let's buckle up," he told Cordelia and the other girl in this group.

"Do we have to suffer through this?" Cordelia whined. "Her bad habits might be contagious."

"You've flunked Driver's Ed twice already, Cordelia," the teacher told her as I got in and adjusted the seat for my lack of leg length. "Pay attention or you'll be taking the bus to college."

"Okay," he told me. "Check the brake. Check the mirror. Start the engine." I remembered to tap the handbrake with my right hand, not my left hand (stupid left hand driving Americans) but as I glanced at the mirrors they seemed to blur in front of me. I shook my head to clear my eyes and made a mental note to check with Mom how long it had been since I visited an Optician. My vision cleared and I turned the ignition.

"Put the car into drive."

Oh yeah. Automatic gearbox. Wonderful. Although I suppose that given it's the wrong side of me, at least I won't have to unlearn my usual habits first. I glanced at the gear stick out of the corner of my eyes and made the prescribed adjustment.

"Okay," he told me. "Let's move through the cones, with a gentle, even turn to the right..."

Okay, I'm a long way from being the world's greatest driver. It'd been almost a decade since I took my test originally and more than half that long since I actually drove anything. The cost of my driving lessons came to a fairly obscene total and I'm not proud of it. However, I did pass my test first time and my errors are generally in the direction of caution, not the reverse.

So I honestly wasn't doing too badly until my vision greyed out.

My initial reflex was the one my instructor had ingrained in me. My feet slammed down on the brake pedal and on where the clutch would have been.

"Whoa!" "Hey!" "What?" shouted the car's other occupants as the car jolted to a halt and the engine stalled. I suppose that the emergency stop process is usually a little different in an automatic.

I stared at my hands on the steering wheel. Okay, I could see them again, they were beginning to shake slightly, my usual reaction to the end of an adrenaline surge.

"What the hell was that, Miss Summers," the teacher demanded.

"Emergency stop," I replied tersely. "I... for a minute there I just couldn't see anything."

He looked puzzled for a moment and then flipped down the eyeshade. "You must have caught the light at a bad angle," he said. "Remember to use the shades when you need them."

"I don't think -" I began. No – it wasn't the light at all.

"Start the car again," he cut me off.

I sighed and started fiddling with the ignition. Maybe I could get through this lesson. But then I'd have to go talk to Giles and pronto.

"And try to keep moving next time," Cordelia heckled. "It's a car, not a roller coaster."

"Why I do believe you're right," I sniped back. "Pity it's not a convertible – it must be cramped squeezing your ego in there."

I had no sooner started the car than everything began to blur again. "The hell?" I muttered, and – since my hand was already on the gearshift, put the car into neutral as I braked sharply. It was a hell of a lot smoother doing that – I suppose that that's the right way to do an emergency stop in an automatic.

"What are you doing?" demanded the instructor. My vision returned as I turned my head to look at him and them everything was an indecipherable blur and I might as well have been looking at one of those magic eye pictures for all the good that my eyes were doing me.

"My god!" gasped the teacher as he saw my eyes.

"I don't think it was the light," I told him in what I have to admit was a very frightened voice.


	6. Blind Justice

A/N

Disclaimer: Characters and settings owned by Mutant Enemy. Any resemblance of the story to theirs is probably not a coincidence.

Thought for the day: Review this fic, by Crom!

.oOo.

"Witchcraft," Giles pronounced from somewhere in front of me. "Blinding your enemy to disorient and disable them is, it's classic!"

Since I was evidently unable to continue the driving lesson, the instructor (his name was Mr Pole, by the way) had excused me to go to the nurse's station – and then the other student to guide me there. Cordelia got to complete her lesson however – and from the engine noises behind me she wasn't that much better than me even if she did have functional eyesight.

Both of my eyes, it appeared, were missing the iris and pupil – which would logically preclude being able to see anything. It also looked quite freaky I'm told. Since the nurse had been unable to do anything constructive, I had persuaded her that there was no immediate need for me to go to the hospital. Instead I obtained permission to miss my remaining classes for the day and to call Mom from the library.

In the caring tradition of Sunnydale High, I was then left to make my way from the nurse's station to the library on my own. It seemed ever so much further to travel, taking small and careful steps, trailing the fingers of one hand along the wall to guide me. I couldn't even recognise the brightness of the sunlight through the windows.

Have I ever mentioned that going blind is one of the more intellectual fears I have? There isn't the visceral fear of monsters, bogeymen or emotional distress, only the numbing inability to experience the things that make life worth living. To read only the pittance that exists in Braille, to miss the faces of my friends and family...

I was breathing deeply when I pushed through the library doors to be greeted by a surprised Giles.

"First vampires, now witches," commented Xander, who had arrived with Willow and Jesse as soon as they heard the rumours of my condition that were sweeping through the school. "No wonder you can still afford a house in Sunnydale."

"Why would someone want to harm you, Buffy?" Giles asked. "As far as anyone knows you're just a normal student. Have you offended anyone lately?"

"What about Cordelia?" Willow suggested. "She really doesn't like you Buffy."

"Do you think she's smart enough?" Jesse objected. "I mean, I _like_ her but..."

"She's _too_ smart to be doing this," I objected. "She was in the car when I went blind. She'd just be putting herself at risk."

"You think Cordelia's smart?" Willow asked in disbelief.

"Not in your league," I clarified, "but she's got a real brain under that fluff, even if she doesn't show it much. She could be quite capable if she wanted to, I think."

"And setting Amber ablaze?" Giles asked.

"Cheerleaders," I suggested, not even slightly guessing at this point. "Amber was a safe bet to join the team before her accident."

I could almost hear Giles' frown. "You think the witch doesn't like cheerleading?"

"I think she doesn't like cheerleaders – i.e. the ones on the team."

Willow gasped. "Amy!"

"Or maybe her mysterious mother," I said thoughtfully. "It's just a theory, but just how _far_ do you think they'd go to get Amy onto the team?"

"Uh, let me make sure I have this right," Giles asked me. "This witch is casting horrible and disfiguring spells so that she or her daughter can become a cheerleader?"

"Cheerleading was kind of her mom's last hurrah," Willow explained. "Amy being on the team would make her dream come true."

"And Amy's been real focused on that lately," I added.

"Around here, I'm surprised we haven't already had a dozen parents trying to fix kiddie league baseball matches with witchcraft," Xander said. He obviously got sceptical looks from Willow and Giles because he defensively added, "You obviously haven't played kiddie league. The competition can get fierce."

"Look," Jesse said firmly, "we still have to stop Amy. We should grab her and..."

"I think we should be sure she's the witch before we arouse her suspicions," Giles interrupted. "She's, she's capable of some fairly unpleasant things."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"Yes," I said flatly. "I'm blind. Can we deal with that and move on, folks? You don't need to be sensitive about it." I considered possible plans. I was pretty sure that I remembered Xander being the only person to check out witchcraft books, and Catherine Madison doubtless had her own. "Okay, we have a suspect. Now what little I know about witchcraft suggests she'd have to have considerable apparatus – spell books, cauldron and whatnot. So we could look for that. Are there any other ways to test her. Methods a tad more reliable than dropping her in a lake to see if she floats?"

"I believe so," Giles agreed. "Let's see." I heard him move and then the sound of pages being turned. "Yes, this should do it. We'll need some of her hair, a little quicksilver and some aqua fortis."

"Well that's just mercury and nitric acid," Willow said. "We can get that in the science lab."

"'Heat ingredients and apply to witch, and if a spell has been cast in the previous forty-eight hours," Giles read out loud, "witch's skin turns blue.' Hmm." I heard him close the book. "Oh, and you'll need some Eye of Newt."

"Well then," I said brightly. "I believe that you guys have science lab next period, and you're in the same class as Amy. So my life is in your hands."

"A-Aren't you being a little... dramatic?" Giles said mildly.

"What's the standard response of the Watcher's Council to a crippled Slayer?" I asked him flatly.

The Watcher retreated into embarrassment.

"Uh, I get the feeling I'm missing something," Jesse said. "What _would_ they do?"

"Call another Slayer."

"I thought there was only one Slayer at a time?" Xander asked.

"Yep."

There was a pause, then Giles asked quietly, "You'll identify the witch as soon as possible, I hope?"

.oOo.

The rest of the day was quiet. I called Mom and managed to break the news with as much tact as possible – mostly stressing the fact that it was entirely possible that this would be a temporary problem. We agreed that she'd pick up Dawn from school and break the news before coming to collect me.

Apart from a visit from Joy to ask if I'd still be able to cheerlead (given that I had no actual evidence that this wasn't going to be either permanent or recurring, I feigned regret that I wouldn't be able to wave pom-poms for the immediate future), that left me alone with Giles who wasn't feeling all that comfortable in my presence given my obvious paranoia about the Watchers as a whole and his ill-concealed relief that I would not be cheerleading.

Since I couldn't see the clock it was something of a surprise when I heard the library doors open and Mom's voice from behind me. "Buffy?"

"Hi mom," I responded and uncrossed my legs to climb down from the counter, where I'd been sat for the last few hours. There was a second set of footsteps from behind Mom, faster as if shorter legs had to work harder to match Mom's pace. "Is that you there, Dawn?"

"Yeah," she said. "What'd you do to go blind?" Then she gasped as I turned and she caught sight of my eyes.

"Dawn!" Joyce snapped. "Buffy has enough to deal without your attitude, young lady."

"Hello?" said Giles, in a quizzical tone as he left his office to investigate the commotion. "Ah, might you be Mrs. Summers?"

"That's right," she confirmed. "Thank you for looking after my daughter, Mr...?"

"Rupert Giles," he introduced himself. "It's no trouble at all, I can assure you. I'm quite used to Buffy's presence here."

"Oh, of course," Joyce realised. "Buffy has a study group here, doesn't she?"

Great. Now they're bonding. I could live without this. Fortunately, Dawn's bored whining cut the socializing down and we were shortly on our way back to Revello Drive.

.oOo.

"' "Long live the king!" cried the nobles, three times. '," Dawn read, some hours later.

After dinner, which had been an exercise in caution on my part, Mom had had to return to the Gallery in order to complete the work cut short by collecting me from school. The idea of leaving me alone with Dawn obviously didn't appeal to her, but there weren't many alternatives.

After a moment's thought, I suggested that Dawn could read a book to me. Since profaning one of her precious books with my presence was obviously unthinkable, I'd directed her to the bookshelf in my room that I'd begun to stock with a few volumes I'd tracked down in Sunnydale's second-hand bookshop. The particular book I'd asked for was an old favourite and as I had hoped, Dawn became engrossed in the story (which was probably a little too mature for her, but she wasn't complaining) and once we were past the first chapter she didn't even voice any more complaints.

Over the time she'd been reading we'd settled into a comfortable position sprawling against each other on the sofa. It was very relaxing being read to like this, but now I tensed as I recalled what followed this passage.

"' "Your eyes have looked upon the fairest sight they will ever behold…" '" Dawn read. "' Guards! Take Corwin away to the smithy, and let his eyes burnt from out his… head… !" '" She paused and I felt her hand take mine. "Buffy? Are you..."

I took her hand and squeezed it comfortingly. "I'd forgotten about that. Something of a morbid choice of book wasn't it?"

"I like it," she admitted reluctantly. "But it's a bit, I don't know, creepy, reading that bit..."

"When I'm blind?" I asked.

Dawn flinched and I laughed and lifted her hand to my lips, kissing it in a courtly fashion. "We can read something else," I said. "Or, is it getting late?"

She leant away from me and I could feel her twist to look at the clock. "Not that late."

"Oh really?" I asked. "How many hours do you think you've been reading aloud? You're beginning to get a little hoarse – I can hear it."

Heehee! Puppy-dog eyes don't affect me when I can't see them.

"Anyway, I'm feeling a bit sleepy," I lied. "So even if you aren't going to bed, I will. It's been a long day after all."

With a little persuasion, Dawn closed up the book and guided me towards the stairs. Once we were there I could manage the climb and get to my room although I did have to rely on her to handle the toothpaste when I used the bathroom. Goddamn, I hate this.

I lay awake for a long time, listening to the night-time sounds and hoping that there weren't screams in the distance. The dreams I drifted into were not good ones.

.oOo.

I woke the next morning to the sound of the alarm clock and for a moment I wondered if I'd gone back to my old life and needed to put my glasses on. Then I realised that my eyesight had _never_ been this bad and recalled the previous day's events.

With a groan I stumbled out of bed and across the room to where I kept my alarm clock. Keeping it where I could just reach over and switch the alarm off before rolling over and going back to sleep didn't work very well, so I'd taken to leaving on the top of the dresser. Having reached the dresser without incident I then proceeded to scatter everything on it thoroughly before I found the damned clock and cut off the alarm.

"Oh this is gonna be a _fun_ day," I decided out loud and began to explore my drawers, selecting clothes by touch. Thank god for having shuffled most of the fluff to the back of the closet after the first few days here.

.oOo.

Joyce was making Dawn breakfast when I walked slowly into the kitchen. "Morning," I said, with the closest I could manage to good cheer.

"And a good morning to you," Joyce said from somewhere in front of me. Her voice was concerned. "Did you sleep well?"

"I've slept better," I admitted and shuffled slowly across the room to the cupboards. There was silence as I opened one and traced my hands across the contents until I'd identified the cereal box I wanted by it's size and shape, then closed the cupboard and opened another to get a bowl. "Did you sleep well, Dawn?" As conversations go it wasn't much – as if there was this big elephant in the room to keep us from communicating with each other.

"I was okay," she said. "Can I finish reading that book today?"

"Sure," I said. "If you finish it then the rest of the series is on the shelf in my room." I put my bowl on the table and opened the top of the box before pausing. "Err, could someone pour these for me? I won't be able to tell how much I've poured." And that would be the elephant, ladies and gentlemen.

Joyce poured out some cereal – less than I usually have – and added milk for me. Dawn actually passed me a spoon without being prompted, an act of generosity that surpasseth any of my limited experience of her.

"Thanks," I said, figuring that such altruism ought be rewarded. "Will you be okay to drop me off at school today, Mom?"

"Buffy," she said somewhat surprised, "you can't go to school – you can't see."

"I noticed that very thing myself," I replied calmly. "But I can at least listen to the teachers and I won't fall too far behind, this way."

"Your eyes will gross everyone out," Dawn pointed out.

"Dawn!"

"It's a good point," I conceded. "But I can wear sunglasses. That'll take care of that."

.oOo.

The argument didn't end there of course, but in the end Mom gave in. She couldn't exactly tie me to my bed; and at least at school there would be plenty of people around if I needed help.

No, that's not honest of me. _When_ I needed help. I wouldn't let being blinded stop me, but it was a hindrance and I could not afford to ignore that.

Fortunately, a phone call to Willow ensured that I had three willing helpers when Mom dropped me off. I don't plan on making a habit of being blind, but between the three of them I always had someone near at hand to guide me when I lost track of where I was. I honestly can't thank them enough for that.

"So do we have a witch?" I asked, first chance that I got.

"Yeah," said Jesse. "Blue skin and all."

"And the second alternate's mouth disappeared in science class," Willow added. "That means that the next vacancy on the team is Amy's chance on the team."

"One more victim," I said grimly. "How is she?" God damn it! I didn't remember a third victim from the original episode. Had I forgotten or had I changed things?

"She was pretty freaked," Xander said. "And she's not in school today."

I swore luridly in three languages. (English, German and Japanese if you're interested.) "Two in one day," I said once I'd calmed down. "She's moving fast."

"Yeah, this could be bad," Jesse agreed. "What if Cordelia's next?"

"Well maybe we shouldn't hurry too much to stop Amy," Xander said, right before Jesse thumped him. "Hey!"

"Xander!" said Willow hissed.

"For I am Xander, King of Cretins," he proclaimed. "All other cretins must bow down before me. Sorry Buff."

I guess Willow must have pointed at me, or possibly my eyes, when she spoke. "I'll take that as a compliment to my adaptability," I said in his general direction. "This time."

"So what do we do now?" Willow asked.

I frowned. "Okay, here's the plan. Jesse, Xander. The two of you are to watch the cheerleaders. It's a safe bet that Amy will target one of them today. I'm counting on you to minimise the damage. Don't confront her if you can avoid it – we may need her intact to reverse the damage."

"Do you think that she would do that?" Jesse asked sceptically.

"If we ask her real polite... and have a knife at her throat," I replied candidly. "I think she'll at least pretend to make nice. Willow?"

"Yes?" she asked.

"We may need some tools of the trade – stuff for brewing counter spells and the like," I said. "I know I'm being vague but do what you can to prepare for that. Giles and I will check out Amy's home. See if her mother knows anything."

.oOo.

We'd gotten off to a rocky start but things were finally coming together, I thought as Giles parked his old Citroen. Once we had Cathy's book and Amy, we should be able to put a few things right. And once Mrs. Catherine Madison was back in her own body I was going to take a great deal of pleasure in kicking her kiester around town.

"Are we there yet?" I asked.

"Yes," Giles assured me.

By the time I'd managed to open the door, he was out of the car and around to help me. A combination of me talking most of a minute to do something that I could usually have done in a couple of seconds and of his concern for me speeding him.

We stood outside the door for couple of minutes as Giles hammered on the door and I was about to just kick the sucker in when it opened.

"Who are you?" asked an unfamiliar voice. "Wha, um, uh, is there something wrong?"

"Mrs Madison, we need to talk to you about your daughter," Giles said.

"I'm not allow..." she began, then broke off and started again. "You'll have to come back – oh my god!" she broke off as I lowered my glasses and stared in her direction with my blank eyes.

"We need to talk," I said flatly, and pushed the door open. Giles' hand on my shoulder steered me as I entered the unfamiliar room.

"You daughter is meddling with something very dangerous," Giles snapped as he guided me to sit on a couch. "Are you aware of that?" My foot tapped against something on the floor.

"Uh, I don't know what you're talking about," the voice said nervously.

My questing hand settled onto the obstruction, a plate containing… something chocolaty judging by the smell. Aha – grounds for an 'intuitive leap' at last!

"Oh, I think you know only too well," Giles retorted.

I placed one hand on his arm. "Giles. This _can't_ be Amy's mum. She's a fanatic about dieting, she'd not be eating chocolate in the middle of the day."

"What?" he exclaimed.

"Bloody hell," I said, plastering a shocked look on my face as I 'looked' in Amy's direction. "_You're_ Amy."

"I don't understand," Giles said in a puzzled voice.

"Christ, Giles," I swore. Haven't you ever seen Freaky Friday? Amy is Catherine and Catherine is Amy!"

"Good lord," he gasped.

"That's it isn't it?" I asked Amy. "Your mom wanted to have her glory again."

"She said I was wasting my youth," Amy said tremulously. "So she took it."

.oOo.

Only minutes later, the three of us were upstairs, outside the attic door.

"She locked herself in here?" Giles asked.

"Yes," Amy agreed. "Wait," she exclaimed as I tried the door knob. "Don't! If she finds out we've been here she'll kill me."

"She's about to have more important things to worry about." I said firmly and drove my shoulder against the door, forcing it open. "She _blinded_ me. That's not something I'm just going to forgive and forget. So, Giles, what do we have?"

He moved past me and examined the room's contents. "My God," he whispered. "I believe we can reverse Mrs Madison's spell. Well, all of them, in fact."

"You could?" Amy asked hopefully. "Really you could?" She entered the room to see what he was doing.

"We need to find her books. There'd be specific volumes she'd need for this kind of casting." There was the sound of him moving items around and then a cat howled.

"Ah!" Giles gasped and I almost leapt out of my skin as something ran between my legs. A moment later I felt most embarrassed as I realised it must have been the cat.

"Giles, Amy?" I asked. "Are you okay?"

"Just a cat, Buffy," Giles assured me. "Now, let's see what it was guarding." There was a pause. "Ah, yes! This is it."

"Her spell book?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied, I could hear his footsteps approaching me. "Come along, Miss Madison."

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"School," I answered her as I followed Giles down the stairs. "We can't have your mother here, with access to all her resources, once we switch your bodies back. We need her to be somewhere we can restrain her."

.oOo.

"Buffy?" exclaimed Willow as we entered the science lab.

"Hey," I nodded. "How's it going?"

"I don't feel so good," came a whiny voice that I didn't expect to hear.

"Cordelia?" I asked. "What's going on?"

Jesse's voice came from near Cordelia. "She was acting strange in cheerleading practise. Like she was drunk or something. Joy kicked her off the squad."

"You think it was Amy?" I asked.

"She's on the squad now," Willow said. "Xander's watching her."

"Is she going to be okay?" Jesse asked. "Should we get her to a hospital?"

"They wouldn't be able to help her," Giles told him. I guess he must have been examining Cordy, the lucky dog. "This is a bloodstone vengeance spell. Hits the body like a, a quart of alcohol, and then it e-eradicates the, uh, immune system."

"A vengeance spell?" Jesse asked. "Why would Amy want to get even with Cordelia?"

"It's not Amy," I explained. "Amy's mom switched bodies with her. She's the witch. This…" I patted Amy on the arm, "is Amy."

"She said something about one of the other cheerleaders threatening her," Amy recalled. "That might be why she used a vengeance spell."

"Sounds like Cordy," I said. "She was real upset about not making it onto the squad." I shook my head. "Okay, we need to get the spells reversed before she dies."

"Dies?" Jesse yelped. "What do you mean, dies?"

"Jesse," Willow told him, "Without her immune system, she'll die. It's like AIDS."

"How much time does she have?" I asked Giles.

"A couple of hours," he estimated. "Three at most."

"Will that be long enough?"

"Yes."

"Then let's get started, people," I instructed.

.oOo.

"Right!" Giles told us from the table he and Willow had been working on. "Here we go!"

"Amy," I ordered. "I need you to wear a blindfold. That way your mother won't know where she is once she's in back in her body."

"Okay," she agreed.

"The centre is dark," Giles recited. "Centrum est obscurus. The darkness breathes. Tenebrae respiratis. The listener hears. Hear me!"

Amy gasped. "Oh, it's... it's working!"

"Steady," I said, moving to stand behind her. "Let it happen."

"Unlock the gate. Let the darkness shine. Cover us with holy fear."

Amy staggered backwards into me and I held her upright.

"Show me..." Giles called. "Corsheth and Gilal! The gate is closed! Receive the dark! Release the unworthy! Take of mine energy and be sated!" There was a bubbling and splashing from the table, with I took to mean that he was doing something with the potion he'd prepared. "Be sated! Release the unworthy! Release! Release! _Release!_" he shouted.

I blinked. There, in front of me I could make out an odd, multi-coloured shape. Had the spell failed? Was I… I blinked again and depth perception returned. It was Jesse's shirt, wrapped around Amy's head…

No! Around Catherine's head!"

"What? I can't see!" she exclaimed and pulled the shirt away from herself. "Who…?"

"Hi!" I said brightly, a malicious smirk on my face. She whirled to face me. "I owe you this," I told her and landed an upper cut that sent her flying across the science lab.

"That body was mine!" she shrieked, rising to her feet. "Mine!"

Jesse leapt forward and tried to pin her arms, but Catherine pulled free and raised one hand, closing her fingers as if around his throat. He gasped and began to choke.

"That's enough of that, Darth Madison," I growled and bitchslapped her to the floor. Jesse, released, gasped for breath.

She flung up one hand and I sailed helplessly down the lab to collide with the table that Cordelia still lay on. Fortunately, the distance travelled was far enough for me to have a moment to brace for the impact. It still hurt though, as the table tipped over. Cordelia was fortunate enough to fall off behind the table's protection. I wasn't - and to add insult to injury, her purse spilled it's contents over me.

Catherine loomed large in my vision. "I shall look upon my enemy!" she shouted, her eyes pitch black. Oh now that's just not fair. "I shall look upon her and the dark place will have her soul." I brushed away the debris of Cordelia's possessions, wondering if I might escape on the technicality of not being a 'her'. Waitaminute! I snatched up one of the items from the purse.

"Corsheth, take her!" Catherine demanded and her magic leapt out at me, a bolt of pinkish lightning that looked like it might actually hurt me.

I rolled flipped open the compact and blocked the spell with the mirror, reflecting it back at her. Catherine shrieked as the spell enveloped her and then dissipated. When it was gone, so was she.

"Tit for tat," I told the slightly scorched circle on the floor where she'd been stood, and flipped the compact closed, noting that the mirror was scorched and broken. Oh well, seven years of bad luck just about explains the next seven years of Buffy's life. I'd take my chances.


	7. Practical Biology

A/N

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Mutant Enemy Inc. I think.

Thought for the day: Would you prefer working for personal power or would you rather team up with others to work for the good of all. Which would you get the most fun out of?

.oOo.

So the Wicked Witch was defeated and we all survived another week on the Hellmouth.

I'm getting far too blasé about this, aren't I?

Of course, I did have a couple more things to do that day. There was, after all, a basketball match that afternoon that required the attention of the cheerleading squad.

.oOo.

I was cleaning up my bedroom that evening when Joyce came in to talk. "I don't get it," she said.

"Get what?" I asked.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking about... where you're coming from, how to relate to you... and I've come to a very simple conclusion: I don't get it."

I smiled. "If it makes you feel better, I don't understand Dawn usually."

"She's eleven. I think there's a, biological imperative whereby we can't understand her because we aren't eleven."

"Do you ever wish to be eleven again?" I asked. It was weird for me to be sixteen again – gave me some idea of what Mrs. Madison must have felt. "Have the golden years all over again?"

Joyce blinked, "Oh that's a frightful notion." She shook her head before continuing. "Go through all that again? Not even if it helped me understand you," she smiled. "Do you?"

"A bit," I admit. "It was... safer I guess. The world wasn't quite so large."

"You've changed since we moved here," she said, a little sadly.

"Everyone has to grow up sometime, Mom. It'd be nice to be a kid again, but it's not who I am." I hugged Joyce and kissed her on the cheek. "I love you, you know that?"

"I love you too, dear." She paused. "Why?"

"I just thought I hadn't told you that lately," I said and grabbed up my textbooks. "I've got a study group to meet, cya!"

"I don't get it," I heard Joyce say as I left my bedroom.

.oOo.

"My Dad is _so _impossible! He doesn't ever want me going anywhere! He wants to spend total quantity time together. And I'm like 'Dad, I can go out, it's perefectly safe!' But he's got all this guilt about leaving me with my mom. And he's being a total pain," said Amy the next day.

"Sounds like you won the 'Dad Lottery'," I told her as we walked across school together.

"He's the greatest," she agreed happily.

"Well you've got the best Dad in town, and I _know_ I've got the best Mom - maybe we should get them together sometime," I joked.

Amy laughed. "I think that only works in Disney movies, Buffy." She paused. "This Saturday Dad want's to stay in and make brownies. Well, the brownies were my idea -"

"Hey," cut in Cordelia from behind us. "I'm really sorry you guys aren't even alternates any more." She paused for effect. "Hold it, wait... No I'm not!"

I grinned and shrugged, "Your gratitude overwhelms me, sweetheart," I riposted. "You're welcome, by the way."

Cordelia descended into wrathful spluttering at that point. She seems do that a lot around me. I wonder why. Hold it, wait… No I don't!

Amy stepped prudently aside as Cordelia became coherent again. "Perhaps on whatever planet you're from, Buffy, you've done me a favour. But this is reality -"

"Sunnydale, actually," I quipped back. "You didn't know that? Which of us has the good-grip handles on reality, again?"

"I'm on the team," Cordelia snapped. "And you're not! So _I'm_ a winner and _you're_ a loser."

"So, Cordy," I asked in a tone of general interest. "In this 'Reality, California,' that you live in – which of us went ape in practise yesterday and got herself booted from the squad? And who was it that went to Joy and persuaded her that she should give you another chance?"

Cordelia paled beneath her tan. "You did what?"

"You're gonna cheerlead the hell out of Sunnydale High, Cordelia," I assured her. "'Cause if you don't I'll take that away from you. Are we clear?"

There was a distinct element of flight as Cordy swept off. I turned to the trophy cabinet to watch her leaving and Amy told me later that my eyes were 'unreadable'. For the record, I was watching Cordy's ass.

"I'm sorry," Amy said, returning to my side. "I forgot you wanted to be on the squad."

"Not really," I chuckled. "It's not as if I'll _miss_ the intellectual thrill of spelling out words with my arms. And I was kind of looking for your Mom anyway."

We turned and looked at the picture of Mrs. Madison in the cabinet.

"Catherine the Great," said Amy flatly.

I raised an eyebrow. "No sign of her?" Please note I was polite enough not to add 'I hope' to that sentence.

"Not a sign" Amy said thoughtfully. "From what you said she was planning something pretty permanent for you. I – I guess we won't be seeing her again." I placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I know she did terrible things..."

"But she was still your Mom?" I said. Amy nodded. We looked at the trophy again and it might be my imagination but for a moment it seemed like its eyes were moving. We both shivered and turned away.

"So, brownies..." "You were looking..." we started to say at the same time, then giggled. I could get used to Buffy's giggle, better than my own harsh cawing. I gestured for Amy to finish her question first.

"You said that you were looking for my Mom?" she asked.

"I had this feeling that something wiggy was up with one of the girls trying out," I explained. "I have to admit, I didn't expect it to be a witch, but I try not to ignore that sort of feeling."

"You got a feeling that something was up and tried to join the cheerleading squad?"

"Well it wasn't _quite_ as impulsive as you make it sound," I protested. "Now about those brownies..."

.oOo.

Science class – as opposed to doing things, we hear about things from Dr. Gregory. Can't say I've any great interest in the sciences, but I usually do passably as long as it's just regurgitating what they tell me. This guy's a pretty good teacher though, makes it fairly interesting.

There is of course, an opposing vote. In this case, Xander was taking advantage of the darkened room (the slide projector was in use) to daydream. I'm not _sure_ what he was thinking about but he was drooling and judging by where his eyes were...

"Xander!" I hissed, snapping my fingers in front of his face a couple of times and then pointing my finger at my face. "Eyes up here when you're looking at me, buddy."

His eyes unglazed and he blinked a couple of times before obeying. I glared and gestured for him to wipe his chin, which he managed just before the lights came on.

"Now," said Dr Gregory. "If you read the homework, you should know the two ways that ants communicate." He looked at me. "Miss Summers?"

"Smell," I guessed promptly. I had read the homework chapters, really I had. Well, I sort of skimmed them between dinner and sneaking out on patrol. But scent was a pretty good bet I figured – most animals use that to communicate. I think.

"Mm-hmm," he nodded, looking at me expectantly.

Oh great, I took back the last nice thing I thought about him. I'd said something, it was someone else's turn. I frowned. It probably wasn't sight – ant sign language would be just too weird – and it probably wasn't taste. Used smell, so that left sound and touch.

I flipped a mental coin. "Touch?"

"Are you guessing, Miss Summers?" he asked, amused.

I tilted my hand back and forth, indicating uncertainty. "Smell, I'm sure of. Touch…"

Dr. Gregory chuckled, "You're quite right, Miss Summers." The bell rang and he moved back to the front of the class. "Chapters six through eight by tomorrow, people." He glanced back at me. "Can I see you for a moment?"

.oOo.

"I gather you had a few problems at your last school," Dr Gregory said.

I raised an eyebrow, wondering where he was going to go with this. Since he seemed to want some sort of response I made a 'well what do you want me to say' gesture.

"Cut school, get in fights, burn down the gymnasium... Principal Flutie showed me your permanent record."

"I figured he'd have a whole presentation down at the staff room," I said. "Complete with slides on the 'Menace from L.A.' that's descended upon his nice peaceful delusions."

Dr Gregory looked surprised. "Delusions?"

"The first day I got here, they found a exsanguinated body in the girl's locker room. Last week I had to extinguish a spontaneous human combustion in the middle of the gym. There's some weird shi… stuff going on in this school and Principal Flutie just closes his eyes and pretends it's not happening." I shook my head. "And he thinks _I'm_ a hazard to the high school? We're not talking good grip handles on reality here."

"Perceptive of you," Dr. Gregory said. "That's what bothers me, Miss. Summers. You have a first rate mind and you can think on your feet. If you applied those to your schoolwork you could excel in your classes."

"Instead of - what? - cruising around in the top ten percent of the school?" I asked. I'd checked my grades and I was doing damn well.

"You could do better," he said firmly. "I expect some actual effort rather than you simply bluffing your way through the classes."

I frowned at him. "Well, important as science class is to my future, there are a couple of higher priorities in my life." I closed my bag. "Like being alive to ­_have_ a future. Call me when you open your eyes and ears, Dr. Gregory."

I headed for the door. Dr. Gregory started to say something but I cut him off with a: "Chapters six through eight, I got it," as I went through the door.

.oOo.

The band in the Bronze was particularly lame that night – call me purist but isn't music supposed to inspire emotion other than the need to punch out the singer for being a whiny little angst-ridden snot?

"Babes," Xander said, walking up behind Willow and I, throwing his arms around our shoulders.

I resisted the urge to throw him across the room. "Xander, what are you doing?"

"Work with me here," he pleaded. "Blayne had the nerve to question my manliness. I'm just gonna give him a visual."

"We'll show him!" Willow said immediately, throwing her arms around Xander's middle.

I grinned slightly (since Xander's arm blocked Blayne's view of my face I wasn't giving anything away. "Willow, why don't you move your right hand down about six inches?"

Yes, I am evil. Why do you ask?

She did so and then blushed as she realised where that put her hand. Xander went into blabbering idiot mode as he realised that Willow was touching his butt and I had to avert my eyes before I cracked up.

My eye fell on someone I'd not expected to see in the Bronze. Then again, I wasn't sure just how much lurking boy would show up at this point in the series. Unless this was something I didn't know about. The show obviously didn't cover every vampire I'd met on patrol so far – who knew what else might happen that wasn't worthy of Joss Whedon's attention?

I stood up on tiptoe to whisper to Xander. "One of my informants just showed up… I'll be back in a moment." And yes, I suppose it did look like I was whispering sweet nothings into his ear. Should look good enough for Blayne to believe Xander's no doubt grandiose claims of manliness. Hey, I was a teenage boy once – I know how they think.

I walked slowly away from Xander and 'incidentally' paused by the pillar Angel was stood next to. "Well now, Fargo," I greeted him quietly. "What's new in MegaTokyo?"

"Huh?" he said dumbly. Ignorant barbarian.

"What brings you to the Bronze, nimrod," I sighed.

"I won't be long," he assured me.

"Cryptic warning about some new mover and shaker in the supernatural world? Or are we gonna cover new turf?" I asked. I could smell drying blood from him – it's the sort of thing that even all the teenage hormones in the air couldn't hide. "Is that your blood or someone else's?"

He grimaced. "Mine. I didn't pay attention." He slipped his jacket off one arm to reveal scars on his left bicep. And presumably to show off his bicep at the same time, given he was only wearing a wifebeater T-shirt under the jacket.

"Claws?" I asked, looking at the parallel scars.

"Some sort of fork," he explained. "Don't let him corner you. Don't give him a moment's mercy. He'll rip your throat out."

I smirked. "Not if I get him first." Some guy with a fork... where did that sound familiar from? Fork – scary insect – science… "Kuso!" I snarled. "Schiesse!"

"What?" he said in surprise.

"I just put two and two together," I said. "I have to go."

I turned and headed for the door.

.oOo.

I was bleary-eyed the next morning. There had been no sign of Dr. Gregory when I did a little breaking and entering to look for him in the science lab. Well, more entering than breaking as Giles had been able to borrow most of the keys in the school long enough for me to take them to a locksmith and get copies made.

What I had found was a selection of freakily large insect eggs on a shelf in the supply cupboard. Since I couldn't imagine Dr. Gregory keeping them around – at least outside of a proper container, I bagged them up and applied a sledgehammer, some petrol and a lighted match to ensure that there would be at least one fewer batch of murdering mantis femmes in the next generation. (No, I didn't do that in the gym.)

"That's all he said? Some sort of fork?" Giles asked.

"Not real informative," I admitted. "Probably a vampire though – that seems to be his area of expertise."

"I'll see what I can find out," Giles assured me as we reached the bench where Willow was sitting. "God," he added, looking up at the sky. "Every day here is the same."

"I'm sure the infinite varieties of rain found in London would be infinitely preferable," I replied dryly.

"Yes, quite," my Watcher responded haughtily.

I shrugged and sat next to Willow who was looking at least fifty percent better dressed than she had when I first arrived.. The red top was nice, now if I could just persuade her to get rid of the plaid pants…

Jesse and Xander arrived as Giles departed for the library. "Guess what I just heard in the office? No Dr. Gregory today. Ergo, those of us who blew off our science homework aren't as dumb as we look," Xander told us, flipping Willow's textbook closed and almost off her lap in triumph.

"Not just today," I said quietly.

"You know something?" Jesse asked. "They didn't say he was sick, just missing."

"I was afraid of that. I checked the science labs last night and found some unusual insect eggs in his lab. I think something got hold of him."

"Yeah, I noticed you left the Bronze real quick after you met Angel," Xander said. "Speaking of which, you never mentioned him being so buff?"

I glared at him – hello? More important concerns? – and then smiled sweetly. "I'm sure he'd be flattered you admire him," I said. "Would you like an introduction – I'm fairly sure he leans that way, denials aside…"

Jesse snickered and Willow blushed.

"Hey, I didn't mean like that!" Xander yelled. "I'm not umay," he finished as I covered his mouth with one hand.

"Xander – I'm pretty sure you don't want to shout that all over the campus… given your, uh, manliness contest with Blayne last night," I advised him.

"So Angel's gay?" Willow asked.

"I'm pretty sure of it," I agreed. "I mean, did you see his hair?"

"Uh, right," Xander mumbled. "Well I'm not… I, uh, huh… uh, huh… huh…" he babbled, looking down the path. The rest of us turned in the same direction and Jesse also went non-verbal.

Willow and I looked at each other. "She's not that good looking," I said in a reasonable tone.

"That's true," she agreed. We looked at the boys and sighed as they drooled over the approaching woman.

The woman walked up to Xander, which must have done wonders for his hormone levels. "Could you help me?"

"Uuuuuhhhh…" he drooled. "Yes!"

"I'm looking for Science 109."

"Oh!" Xander said brightly. "It's um…" He looked around, trying to remember how to get there. Something seemed to be impairing his higher mental functions. Honestly, the kid's so easily distracted… "I go there every day!" he announced.

I rubbed at my forehead and tried very hard not to giggle as he muttered: "Oh, God, where is it?"

"Hi," said Blayne, approaching from behind the new arrival. "Blayne Mall. I'm going there right now. It's not far from the varsity field where I took All-City last year," he said with a smug smile. That was pretty smooth of him.

"Oh!" she said, pleased. "Thank you, Blayne!"

Xander's gaze followed them as they left, as did many other eyes. Jesse slapped Xander on the shoulder. "It's funny how the Earth never opens up and swallows you when you want it to, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Xander agreed mournfully.

.oOo.

Science class was first period so we got a close eye at the new substitute teacher. I'm sure Jesse, Xander and Blayne all appreciated that. Given that Blayne was sitting next to me as he directed calf-eyed looks at her, I don't have the slightest doubt that he appreciated being sat almost in front of her. Her name, it seemed, was Natalie French.

"Dr. Gregory's notes tell me you were in the middle of insect life," she announced. "The preying mantis is a fascinating creature. Forced to live alone. Who can tell me why? Buffy?"

I scratched at my cheek. "Predators don't like to share turf," I said succinctly. "Not real sociable little beggars are they?"

"That's very nearly right," Ms. French said. "The reason they live alone is because they're cannibals."

Muffled sounds of disgust came from around the class.

I shook my head and sighed. Well, no surprise that this subject was close to her heart.

"You know," she mentioned a few minutes later. "We should make some model egg sacks for the science fair. Who would like to help me do that after school?"

Approximately half the class put their hands in the air. I'll give you three guesses about the demographic basis of that split. As a predator, she's pretty smart. Why chase them down when you can have them come to you?

.oOo.

Well, I've got a whole new appreciation for the school dinners I got served when I was a kid. The Californian equivalent was apparently called Hot Dog Surprise. I'm not sure what was so surprising about that. Fortunately, I had sandwiches, so I was able to skip that part of the line and settle for a couple of pints of milk. Builds healthy bones, you know?

"I wonder what she sees in me?" Xander mused. "It's probably the quiet good looks coupled with a certain smoky magnetism."

"What who sees in you?" Jesse asked, having been in a different class that morning.

"Miss French," Xander explained. "I'll be going over to her place tomorrow night."

Willow raised her eyebrows at that and then looked at me with a smile.

"Oh, right," Xander said. "You two are probably a little too young to understand what an older woman would see in a younger man."

_Well I know what an older man sees in a younger woman,_ I mused. _Does that count?_ "Xander, every guy in the class is going to be visiting her over the next couple of weeks. I don't think she has high expectations of you."

"Every guy in the class?" protested Jesse. "Oh man, why can't I be in your class Xander?"

"Hey!" Xander protested to me. "What do you mean, she doesn't have high expectations?"

"Gotta carb up for my one-on-one with Miss French today," Blayne announced as he came past with a plate piled high. "When's yours?" he asked Xander. "Oh, right, tomorrow. You came in second, I came in first. Guess that's what they call natural selection."

"Guess it's what they call a rehearsal!" Xander shot back. "Rehearsal," he repeated to us.

I shook my head thoughtfully. "Audition," I told him calmly. Right then, I need to find out where she's living...

Cordy bumped into me as she came in through the wrong end of the kitchen line. "Excuse you!" she sneered.

I looked up at her (height, dammit! Give me height!) and the corners of my lips quirked up. Then I reached up and cupped her cheek gently. "Why sweetling," I told her in my best attempt at a flirty voice. "What a thing to say…"

Half the line went into synchronised gulps as they heard that and turned to see Cordelia and I stood well within each other's personal space and the red flush that was rising in Cordelia's face.

"Later," I assured Cordelia in a breathy voice and with an amused glance at the rest of the line before leaving the room.

A minute later I dashed back in, following a high-pitched scream. Cordelia was behind the counter, backing away from one of the large stainless steel refrigerators. "His head!" she shrieked. "His head! Oh my God, where's his head?"

I glanced into refrigerator as I pulled her away. One headless body in a lab-coat with an embroidered name above the breast pocket. Cordelia had found Dr Gregory...

A wave of nausea swept through me. Cordelia was looking pretty green herself and I barely managed to get a bucket in place before she followed that reaction to its logical outcome.

.oOo.

"Here," Giles offered, holding a pint glass of tap water in front of me. "Drink this."

I shook my head and took out a carton of milk. "Thanks, but I'm thirsty, not dirty."

"I've never seen..." Xander began. "I mean, I've never seen anything like… That was new."

"Same here," I said quietly.

"Who would wanna hurt Dr. Gregory?" Willow asked plaintively.

"Uh, he didn't have any enemies on the staff that I'm aware of," Giles said. "He was a… civilised man. I liked him."

"Well we're gonna find out who did this," Willow said firmly. "We'll find them and we'll stop them."

"Yeah," I said grimly.

"I've gotta wonder," Jesse said. "It's kind of gross, but where do yu think his head went?"

"Good point," Willow commented. "It _is_ kind of gross."

"What do we know?" Giles asked.

"What did Angel say?" Xander asked. "I mean, he must have mentioned something since you ran of straight away to check on Dr. Gregory."

Giles looked confused. "Buffy? You never said that Angel mentioned Dr. Gregory."

"He didn't," I explained. "I… uh… it sort of… it was a Slayer Dream!" I stumbled. "Angel mentioning a fork-guy matched up with one of those - some vampire with a fork instead of a hand looking scared, Dr. Gregory looking scared, some sort of insect creature."

My Watcher sighed. "Buffy, why don't you tell me about dreams like that."

I shrugged. "Well a lot of them are kind of silly. I mean…" I sought for a suitably implausible instance. "One dream had Harmony as a Master Vampire. You know, with minions and everything."

"_Harmony_? With _minions_?" Xander exclaimed.

Giles took off his glasses and wiped at them. "Well, presuming that you mean Miss Kendall, I think we can safely agree that that is, er, quite unlikely…" He shook his head. "In any event, we can assume then that this vampire is in someway connected."

"_Harmony_? With _minions_?" Xander repeated.

Jesse snickered and punched Xander's arm. "Yeah." He started laughing and then sent Xander off as well – partly out of nerves at today's little discovery.

Giles groaned. "Would the pair of you please grow up?" He replaced his glasses. "I've been trying to gather more information about the Master, our, uh, local vampire king. There was one oblique reference to a, a, a vampire who displeased the Master and cut his hand off in penance."

"And replaced it with a fork?" I asked.

"I don't know what he replaced it with," Giles admitted.

"So why would he come after a teacher?" Xander asked.

"I'm not certain he did," Giles said. He produced a newspaper from behind the counter. "There was an incident two nights ago involving a homeless person in Weatherly Park. He was practically shredded, but, uh, nothing like Dr Gregory."

I took the paper. "It's a bit loose, but it's the only lead we've got at the moment. "

"Buffy, I know you're upset," Giles said, "But this is no time to go hunting, not until we know more. Please promise me you won't do anything rash?"

"Rash?" I asked, as innocently as I could manage. "Me?"

"That's what I was afraid of."

I grinned. "Okay. Oh, Xander? It's a long shot, but did Miss French let you know where she lives? I'll swing by there on patrol, just in case someone's gunning for science teachers…"

The prospect of a threat to our substitute biology teacher was enough to elicit that information in an instant.


	8. Daughter of Martha

A/N

Disclaimer: If you recognise it, it's not mine. If you don't recognise it, research cause that's not mine either.

Reviews! Woohoo! Congrats to GideonStargrave for correctly identifiying the source of last chapter's thought for the day. Thank you to Auroris for the positive feedback. I do have plans that would take the story past the end of the Second Season, maybe further. As for the real Buffy, I'm not sure yet whether she'll make an appearance.

Thought for the day: No matter how sincere he looks, I will never shake the Evil Overlord's hand.

.oOo.

A wire mesh fence about eight feet high circles Weatherly Park. Despite the extra weight of my fighting kit, which I'd been expanding over the last dozen or so patrols, I was able to climb it quickly and dropped onto the ground behind it with barely a sound.

The lighting wasn't great but I quickly adapted to it. Obviously the victim of two nights ago wasn't the only derelict in the park – I found two almost immediately – one asleep, the other still walking around as he finished his bottle of whatever. This was probably an easy feeding ground and I made a note to keep an eye on the Park in the future. I'd not found quite so many vampires around the Bronze lately, but I might be displacing them rather than killing them off, after all.

Apart from the bums there didn't seem to be anyone much around – a couple of dogs barking in the distance, a pedestrian in the distance, but nothing _here_.

Since I'd not been in the park before the first thing I needed to do was to orientate myself. The general layout wasn't too complicated but it took me a couple of minutes to find the sewer access. If I didn't know better I might have speculated about Sunnydale being laid out deliberately to favour vampires and the like. The truth of course is that I had no need to _speculate_…

The sewer access was a vertical one, man-high, which came out of the side of the hill. There were a couple of layers of vegetation covering it but I wasn't surprised to find that it came away easily. Camouflage, obviously. I'd definitely have to keep an eye on this place.

I _was_ surprised when a good-sized vampire leapt out at me from the sewer. Throwing myself to one side I barely missed getting gutted by the big ass metal claws that were crudely embedded where a hand should have been. Fork my arse! This guy had a quadruple machete fetish!

Fortunately, I'm not reliant on a lousy wooden stick to fight back with. Walking around with an actual axe or sword might be a bit too obvious so I'd visited every martial arts shop in Sunnydale, as well as a fair number of mail order catalogues before ordering a high-quality bokken – basically a wooden sword used for training in some schools of Japanese swordsmanship. There were fair number of places in the area that dealt in them, although I badly missed being able to use the Internet for that sort of thing.

When I rolled to my feet, the bokken slipped easily into my hand from the scabbard slung across my back. He swung at me again and I cracked him across where the wrist should be on his 'borged' arm. Judging by the sound of the hit I guess that the claws went further back than I'd thought.

"So then, Wolverine, what's your story?" I asked conversationally and whipped the bokken back out of his reach. I was wielding the bokken more like a sabre than a katana – sorry to the purists but the closest thing I have to real sword training is two years of fencing at university. And even there I used a foil more than I did a sabre. Since I didn't actually have an edge or all that much of a point to work with though, the sabre techniques would have to do.

My clawed friend wasn't much of a conversationalist, and didn't seem to be more than a one trick pony in the combat school. My opinion of Angel went down as I evaded another swipe then used the hardwood bokken to take out one of the vampire's kneecaps and batter his face a bit as he fell.

He rolled away before I could stake him and fought more defensively as he waited for his knee to regenerate. Makes the 'Wolverine' tag even more appropriate, doesn't it?

Voices came from over the top of the hill and a flashlight darted across the trees – fortunately far too high to illuminate me. I was momentarily distracted and Wolvey got a few paces on me as he made a run for it.

"Hold it!" came a voice from on top of the hill. "Police!"

I darted for the shadows, following my friend. If I was right, he'd lead me right the way to something interesting.

Fortunately the police had enough in the way of Sunnydale Survival Reflexes not to give chase seriously and I caught up with Wolvey as he reached the top of the fence. Grabbing him by the ankles I dragged him down and bounced him off a tree a couple of times.

The sound of heels on the sidewalk told me that there was about to be a witness on the other side of the fence so I had to finish this quickly. Fortunately, the vampire was slightly stunned by the repeated impacts of his head against the tree so he didn't respond fast enough when I twisted a small length of the rubber piping usually used to feed gas into a Bunsen burner and then stuffed it inside his shirt.

He grabbed at the pipe, correctly reasoning that it wasn't there for his health, but before he could do anything about it, the chemicals finished reacting and several ounces of homemade napalm ate their way through the sealant at either end of the tube and got to work on him. Vampires are quite flammable so the outcome of my little experiment was quite favourable, not that I stayed around to watch. Instead, I jumped for the lowest branch of the tree and was sheltered among the leaves when Ms. French walked into view. No sign of Blayne – not surprising, really.

Since she seemed pretty engrossed in carrying her bags of groceries I dropped to the ground when she had passed me and followed her at a discreet distance. I suppose I could have crept around, or skulked or something of that nature, but I might have tripped over some gay vampire lurking in the shadows so I decided not to. Fortunately, no one seems to pay much attention to a pretty girl walking through the streets late at night, even if she is, by strange coincidence, following the precise route of her Biology teacher.

.oOo.

The house Ms. French went to was a pretty standard wood frame raised enough to have small windows into the basement. If what little I remembered was right, that would be where Blayne would be. Except that he was just coming along the street now and I had to duck behind a parked car to ensure that he didn't spot me.

Oh, of course, I realised. I was doing this a night earlier than Buffy had.

Blayne rang the bell and Ms. French opened the door, wearing a little black dress that gave her intentions away perfectly. Well, not the biting off heads bit, you need a keen grip on whatever 'ology applied to bug mating rituals to know that. What a sad life I lead. Blayne of course, melted under the attention and followed her into the house.

Righto, buggly located. Now to slay it. I took stock of my resources. Hmm, no insect repellent, stakes probably not the most effective, used my test napalm on the vampire. Bugger. Nothing in the armoury for the hacking of shit apart. Not that there was much for that back at the library either. I definitely need to talk to Giles about our supply situation.

Well, I thought. Time to improvise. A quick scout of the back garden located a garden shed, which I broke into. (If you want details, I just pulled the door hinges loose of the wood. It's pathetically easy to do when you're the Slayer.)

The same technique worked on the basement window. Well, more or less – I used the spade as a lever. Blayne was screaming something and I sort of gathered that there wasn't much time left before someone was prepared for breeding purposes. I sighed and squeezed through the window, spade in hand.

.oOo.

Three quarters of an hour later I pushed open the front door of the house and left, leaning heavily on the spade as my left leg appeared to be broken. Bloody sodding fucking DEAD mantis woman! I could have sworn that Buffy kicked her arse without appreciable difficulty! She broke my fucking leg! I killed her of course, but it slowed me down quite considerably.

Blayne trailed after me. "Whoa, you were amazing!"

"Yeah, I know I am," I said absently. "Thus the improvised crutch." I leant on the porch for a moment and wiped a bit more gore off the spade.

"Well, you could lean on me," he offered. I turned and saw him leering at me. "I'm not with anyone at the moment so no one would get jealous."

"It's an amazing thing about those mantis femmes," I observed. "They have an absolutely perfect ability to detect virginity."

Blayne froze. I could have locked him in a cube of ice and he'd have moved less.

"Do you think," I asked sweetly, "that there might be any significance to the fact that she picked you as her first little playmate?"

"My dad's a lawyer," he blurted, his face pale. "You repeat that to anyone, you're gonna find yourself facing a lawsuit!"

I grinned. "I _own_ the rumour mill at School, boyo. If I hear even the slightest whisper about tonight, or of _anything_ I don't like that I can trace even a suspicion of back to you… well, you'll be in the yearbook as purest of the pure."

He gulped and I placed one fingertip on my lips. "Be vewy, vewy quiet, boyo. Or I'll be very sodding loud."

.oOo.

"So," Giles said the next morning, once he'd assured himself that I wasn't hurt. (And allow me to say that walking normally on a still healing broken leg hurts quite a lot. Being a Slayer means I heal fast – not instantly – and it had been less than twelve hours since I broke it.) "Did you encounter someone with a fork on last night's rash endeavour?"

"Yep," I agreed. "And we can put a big tick mark against him on our list of things to slay."

"Oh!" Giles said, apparently startled by that. "Well, uh, good. Well done."

"And there was a preying mantis what did in Dr. Gregory," I added. "Scratch that too."

He blinked. "You're sure?"

"Well, distinctive bite marks on his neck, large lateral incisions through its neck. Yep, that's the one and it's not going to be doing that again."

"Lateral incisions?" Giles said in a startled voice.

"Make a note, o watcher mine," I advised him. "The common garden spade is a tool of considerable value in my line of work."

"You killed a preying mantis with a spade?" Giles said. "That seems a little extreme."

I reviewed the conversation so far and noted the point I'd forgotten to impress upon him. "It was about as big as you are, Giles. Bug spray just wasn't going to cut it."

"Oh," he said again. "Well, uh, at least you're not hurt."

"Yet," I said. "I still have to break the news to Xander."

"News? I'm not sure why he'd be concerned," Giles enquired in a confused voice.

"You remember the substitute teacher I mentioned yesterday?"

"Miss French? Yes, she's lovely," he said, then flinched. "In a, a common, extremely well proportioned way."

I smirked. "Yeah, well, Xander would agree with that description. I think he may be just a tiny little bit upset that she won't be around anymore – there seemed to be a bit of mutual interest involved."

"Good lord," Giles exclaimed. "Did something happen to her?"

"She was the preying mantis," I told him. "Very tragic tale of science teacher who was really virgin-hunting preying mantis."

"How extraordinary," Giles said. "If that's the case then she must have been a shape shifter or a perception distorter." He frowned. "I wonder…"

"Wonder what?" I asked, curious as to what connection he'd made.

"I had a chum at Oxford, Carlyle, advanced degrees in entomology mythology."

So that's the 'ology in question! "Now _there's_ a specialised field," I chuckled. "Did he ever mention anything like this?"

"If I recall correctly, poor old Carlyle, just before he went mad, claimed there was some beast…"

"Mad? Nasty…" I murmured. Then a thought struck me. "So, this Carlyle… dedicated scholar? Didn't get out much?"

"I suppose that that would be a fair description," Giles conceded. "Why?"

"Remember what I said about virgin-hunting?" I asked. "Ms. French was looking for mating partners and she had certain requirements…"

Giles looked like someone had struck him across the face with a wet haddock. "My god, poor Carlyle…" Then he frowned. "You said she was interested in Xander?"

"Uh-huh." Boys, they never really grow up. Or at least, _I_ never have.

"My, my," Giles murmured thoughtfully, a slightly smug grin on his face. "Who would have thought…"

.oOo.

"You were there," accused Principal Flutie.

"Wha?" I asked intelligently.

"You saw Dr. Gregory, didn't you?" he insisted.

As conversations went, this wasn't one I wanted to have in the middle of a crowded hall. Or anywhere really, but this wasn't any great delight as a venue. "Well I have classes with him just about everyday…"

"I mean yesterday," he said. "You were there when… you witnessed the event, didn't you?"

I put a shocked expression on my face. "I wasn't there, I didn't do it, and those aren't my fingerprints!" I asserted.

"Do what?" he asked in surprise.

"Whatever you're accusing me of," I answered promptly.

"Everyone who saw the body has to see a crisis counselor."

"What body?"

Mr. Flutie scowled. "Dr. Gregory's body."

I glared at the Principal. "Eww, eww! I had those memories nicely repressed, you know. Now you've traumatised me all over again."

"So you need to see the counselor."

"Because I saw Dr. Gregory's dead body?"

"Don't say dead! Or decapitated, or decomposing, I'd stay away from D-words altogether."

"How about delinquent?"

"That's another bad word, Miss Summers!"

"So I shouldn't miss any classes."

"Absolutely not. You must attend your classes without fail!"

"So hadn't I better head for class straight away?"

"Yes, carry on," Flutie insisted.

"I'll be off then," I said and left him spluttering as he realised I'd just sidetracked him away from talking to the counselor.

.oOo.

I was ambushed as I left Biology class. Now, this being Sunnydale and Biology class being less than a hundred yards from the Hellmouth itself, you might imagine that the ambush was an act of the undead or at least of chthonic entities. No such luck – it was the local unofficial chapter of the Beta Chi Nu sorority.

Cordelia, in a rare display of self-preservation wasn't with them, but all of her crowd were there. I took this to mean that either she'd set them up for a fall or that one of the sheep was trying to make a power play by putting me in my place when Cordy couldn't.

Or both, of course. I was already in my place, at the precise and absolute apex of high school society, and anyone who didn't recognise this was simply being a poor loser. (Which, by the way, was the secret of my strategy. As long as I acted as if that line of bullshit was God's Own Truth, most of the school would blindly react towards me as if it _was_ God's Own Truth.)

"Why, Buffy," Harmony said in fake concern. "How did you manage to hurt your leg like that?"

"Maybe she slipped when she was hanging around on street corners last night," suggested Aura.

I raised one eyebrow. That was a relatively subtle insinuation for this lot.

"Or maybe you just like it rough," another girl suggested. "I hear some of the geekier guys like that."

And back down to their usual level. Sigh.

"Harmony," I said humbly. "I have this little problem – perhaps you could advise me."

Harmony, predictably, preened. "Why of course."

"Imagine a bloke. The hottest guy imaginable. The guy we're talking about is hotter than that."

She nodded, eyes glazing.

"Driving a sports car," I expanded. "Expensive. Cool. We're talking about the ultimate status symbol amongst cars."

Harmony was all but drooling at the thought. So were most of the crowd.

"He pulls over next to you and invites you to get in, for dancing, dinner and a night in his bed. Plus you get the car. Would you go for it?"

Harmony smiled. "Yeah, sure," she said dreamily. Quite a number of the girls around her were nodding enthusiastically.

I nodded thoughtfully. "Right. Next scenario. Biggest geek in school offers you a quarter if you'll give him a blowjob. Yes or no?"

Harmony was ripped out of her little fantasy by the image. "Ewww! No way. What do you think I am!" she shrieked.

I shrugged. "We've established what you are, Kendall. Now we're negotiating your _price_."

Harmony went bright crimson. Someone at the back of the group snickered. I thought for a moment that the bottle blonde would burst into tears. I swept them with an amused look. "And the same for you lot of course."

If looks could kill…

"Well," I said, cheerfully, walking along the front of the group. "This has been a lovely little chat, we'll have to do it again some time, won't we? Toodles!" And then I limped off into the sunset.

.oOo.

The next couple of weeks were quiet. My leg healed cleanly (of course) and I got to spend many lovely sunny days stuck in school and many dark nights on the rooftops and in the back alleys of Sunnydale tracking Vampires back to their lairs and going all van Helsing on them.

On the plus side, Harmony and the other sheep were now running as scared as Cordelia seemed to be; and the regular raiding was doing some really nice things to my bank balance. Not that I had all that much to spend it on – no and we didn't even have a home computer so internet shopping was out and Sunnydale was (as you may have gathered) not a great hub of commerce. Life prior to the information revolution was a sad and dark thing.

Still, I was at least keeping busy. Beside school (my grades were generally better than Buffy's had been) and Slaying, I had managed to pick up a number of 'hobbies' that consumed my time quite effectively. It might be more accurate to say friends rather than hobbies though – a strange thing, but there it is. Teasing Cordelia was always fun, and closely linked to keeping Xander and Jesse out of trouble, or at least moderating the degree of trouble. (Xander forgave me almost immediately for upsetting his 'study-date' with Ms. French. He didn't look me in the eye all day, but that's understandable – the top I was wearing was a little lower cut that I'd realised when I put it on that morning.

Willow was great fun of course. While I couldn't keep up with her on the technical side of computers, the practical applications are something I was well versed in, so we had a certain amount to talk about. I was also doing some quiet revisions to her wardrobe – nothing too obvious, but a few quiet suggestions had relegated certain items to the back of the closet and we'd raided a few malls for slightly more attractive outfits. As stated, I'm no great shakes at fashion but I credit myself with a few improvements at least over her prior status.

On top of all that, I'd taken advantage of one of the benefits of being ten years in the past – there were intellectual properties that hadn't been conceived of yet and I was capitalising on that. One of my favourite RPG settings wouldn't be published for another six years, so I'd cobbled together as much as I could remember (I don't exactly have a photographic memory but I was pretty sound as far as setting and basic mechanics went) and persuaded a few of the local geeks to start a campaign. It wasn't too high maintenance and it was by no means a coincidence that Jonathan Levinson was playing a muscular swordsman type and Andrew Wells was his arrogant sorcerer buddy. They were having fun and, to be honest, so was I. Plus it filled the growing gap of time between the end of school on Friday and sunset, when I'd set out on Slaying duties. Willow, Jesse and Xander hadn't joined but the scary thing was, Giles actually seemed a little interested in participating.

Speaking of Giles brings me to the current circumstances. He'd finally deigned to watch one of my patrols so he'd accompanied me tonight. This kept me off the less accessible routes like rooftops since he'd not be able to follow me. Instead I combed through the same cemetery that contained the entrance we knew of to the catacombs under Sunnydale.

There was in fact, good reason to be doing this – I was no closer to an angle on how to reach the Master and the above ground lairs were dissolving like ice in a blast furnace under the pressure I was putting on them. There would always be a flow of new idiots, but most of the cannier vampires had seen the direction of the wind and were sheltering underground. I believe you will understand my reluctance to follow them there and I had the uncomfortable suspicion that I might be bolstering Joe Nest's recruitment among them more than I liked.

Any vampires I came across now were likely to know something about the conditions down there, and maybe the whereabouts of Darla as well – that was one piece of unfinished business that I'd rather not leave hanging over my head. Unfortunately, my contestant for the night wasn't the talkative type and I wound up driving my bokken through his heart, will all the vampire killing drama that I could muster. "Ashes to ashes, dust to dust."

"Poor technique," Giles criticised, popping up from behind the crypt he'd been using as a hiding place. "Prioritising, sub-par… Execution was adequate but a bit too bloody for my liking."

"Oh cut me some slack, Giles," I retorted. "We can't always be Oxford fencing champions – and why haven't I had any lessons in that may I ask?"

"You're spending too much time and energy, Buffy," he clarified. "There's no need to talk to them, it should simply be plunge and move on."

"There's every need to talk to them," I said irritably. "I want to know where he lairs and if he's got any friends there. It's called operational intelli- are you listing to me?" I broke off as Giles frowned and bent over to lift something from the grass, using a pen to avoid actually touching it. "What've we got?"

"I don't know," he said, holding up a ring so that I could see it.

Nothing too remarkable about it. Some sort of rune on the outside and… oh ho, a sun and three stars on the inside. I remembered that all right. I'd done a little preparatory research on Joseph Heinrich Nest and this was associated with one of his little circles of Frat Boys.

"Gimme," I said and took it from his hand before he could stop me. "Now that looks familiar," I said. "I'd have to check but I think we can pin this to the Order of Aurelius."

"I-I'll look into it," Giles promised, with an accusing look.

"Well spotted, Watcher-mine," I congratulated him, passing the ring back, which mollified him at least a little.

.oOo.

"You were quite correct," Giles told me the next morning. "The ring does indeed refer to the Order of Aurelius, a very old and venerated sect of vampires. If they're here, it's for a good reason."

"Oh goody," I said. "Just what we needed. Any idea what that reason might be?"

"Ah… no," he admitted.

"And this, Giles, is the reason that I talk to vampires before I stake 'em. To try to get hints on that sort of thing."

"I stand corrected," Giles said haughtily as the door opened and a muscular lad entered the library. I vaguely recognised him from Math – Owen something or other. I'd always figured him for a jock. "What do you want?" Giles asked snippily. I don't think he was having a good day.

"A book?" Owen said a little defensively.

"You're in the right place then," I said dryly.

"I lost my Emily," Owen explained, then added: "Dickinson," hastily as I gave him an odd look. "It's kind of dumb, but I like her around. Kind of a security blanket."

I nodded, wondering if there was a point to this. "Literature?"

"Poetry," Giles said and pointed to the stacks.

"I didn't think I'd find you here," Owen said as he turned to go up the stairs.

"Why not?" I asked in surprise. I'd been something of a fixture in the library when I'd been a student in my previous life and I would have thought I'd have garnered a similar reputation here by now.

"I-I didn't mean… I mean… I think you can read."

"I think I can read too," I said from the table where I was sat. "Although my English grades might suggest that the teachers disagree." It wasn't my fault that the test didn't say I had to analyse one of the set books for the lesson, it just said 'one of the books you've read'. I was spoilt for choice at that point.

"But you don't seem bookwormy," Owen said as he found his book on the shelf. "The type of person to lock themselves in a dark room with a lotta musty old books."

I couldn't help but laugh at that. "I prefer well lit rooms for reading, and a surprising number of books have been written in the last century – they've not had any chance to get musty yet."

"Oh," he replied as he came down the stairs.

Giles took the book and headed for the checkout station. "Emily Dickinson. I'm surprised you haven't come across her with your raiding of the poetry shelves, Buffy. She's quite a good poet, I mean for a…"

He hesitated and I shrugged. "Oddly enough, I prefer Kipling. Sons of Martha seems appropriate some times."

Giles nodded in understanding. Sons of Martha was written by Rudyard Kipling in 1907 and made reference to the unlauded and dirty work done by military engineers more or less thanklessly. The parallel to a Slayer's life was clear.

"I'll, uh, see you in math… if I open my eyes at some point," Owen offered.

"Cya," I said absently and turned back to Giles, who seemed to have cheered up for some reason.

.oOo.

"Owen Thurman was talking to you?" Willow asked as we entered the cafeteria. Don't ask me how the subject came up, I have no clue.

"Well I think so, how many Owens can there be in the school. It's the one in our math class," I said helpfully. It's not like I'd ever paid attention to him before. Why should I start now?

"Wow!" Willow exclaimed. "He hardly talks to anyone. He's solitary, mysterious... He can brood for forty minutes straight, I've clocked him."

"Is that the bit where he sits around without saying anything?" I asked. Wow, Giles would be impressed. A teenager who can keep his mouth shut for more than ten consecutive minutes? He'd never believe that without documentary evidence.

Willow nodded, "That's right. What did you guys have to talk about?"

"Poetry. He's apparently really fond of... Emily Dickens? Something like that."

"He reads Emily Dickinson?" Willow said in awe as we took our seats across from Jesse and Xander. "He's sensitive, yet manly! Well, wait – you've never read her?"

I shrugged. "He's apparently not much of a Kipling buff either."

"You read Kipling?" she said in surprise. "Really?"

"Who's Kipling?" asked Xander.

I rolled my eyes. "Poet Laureate of the British Empire," I told him. "His works are very popular among soldiers – a lot of them were written for the British Army in India."

Jesse looked at me sceptically. "What sort of _soldier_ reads poetry?" he asked with an air that suggested that poetry was the hobby of pretty-boys, queers and at its lowest dregs, GURLS.

"It's not all flowers and trashy romance," I said cheerfully. "This is a fellow who wrote: 'Now, if you must marry, take care she is old - A troop-sergeant's widow's the nicest I'm told, For beauty won't help if your rations is cold, Nor love ain't enough for a soldier.' Mind you," I added, "that's one poem that's got a nicely gruesome ending to it…" I frowned. "Let's see, 'When you're wounded and left on Afghanistan's plains, And the women come out to cut up what remains, Just roll to your rifle and blow out your brains, And go to your God like a soldier. Go, go, go like a soldier. Soldier of the Queen.' "

"T-that's _horrible_," Willow protested.

Even Xander's appetite seemed to flag at the imagery of the poem. He let his fork drop onto his plate. "So, Buffy, how'd the slaying go last night?"

I rolled my eyes. "I bow to your discretion."

"I meant how'd the _laying_ go?"

Planting both elbows on the table I buried my face in my hands. "Would you like a shovel Xander, so you can try to dig yourself in deeper?"


	9. Slayer: the Dating

A/N

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer belongs to Joss Whedon and his army of sturm-lawyers

Dedicated to my squeeing fangirl.

.oOo.

"Giles is unimpressed with my technique, and the hot new vampire sect in town is called the Order of Aurelius," I advised the guys quietly.

"Is that bad?" Willow asked. "I mean, a new sect is bad, right?"

"Willow," Xander protested, "They're bringing in the much needed tourist dollars."

"How dangerous are they?" Jesse enquired thoughtfully.

"On a scale of one to ten? About a four. Not great news but I'm not gonna lose too much sleep over them. The one I shish-kebabed wasn't much," I summarised. "Giles criticising my technique is pretty severe though. There are high stakes involved when it comes to my kick-assness."

Willow and Xander nodded in agreement. Jesse on the other hand, was slightly zoning. "Assness… yeah…"

I blinked and waved a hand in front of his eyes, or I would have if he hadn't insistently moved his head to keep staring at whatever had attracted his attention. I glanced in that direction. Oh, Cordelia had arrived. That figured. I nodded my head thoughtfully. Assness indeed. Then Cordy sat, hiding it from view, much to my and Jesse's disappointment.

My attention was dragged back to the table by Willow's gasp. "Eh? What's up, Willow?"

"Buffy!" she hissed, leaning forwards (and dammit I am going to get that girl into something with a neckline one of these days). "Cordelia's sitting with Owen!"

I nodded sadly. "I know, dammit." It was a bloody outrage. Owen most certainly did not rate Cordelia.

I had finished my meal and took a short walk to dump the remains into the bin. Rather less than coincidentally, I passed close enough to Owen's table to overhear Cordelia.

"…loitering at the Bronze tonight. You there?"

"Who's all going?" Owen asked, looking interested.

"Well, um, I'm gonna be there," Cordelia stressed.

"Who else?"

"You mean besides me?"

I chuckled. Cordelia's ego just might be big enough to generate a gravity field that the rest of the world orbited around.

"Buffy, what about you?"

Eh? I looked at Owen blankly, replaying the conversation to see what I was being asked.

"No, no, no," Cordelia insisted. "She, uh, doesn't like fun."

Oh well, if it would upset Cordelia… "I guess I could."

Owen grinned broadly. "Great! How 'bout we meet there at eight?"

At that point I realised that whatever this expedition to the Bronze was for everyone else, he would be firmly labelling it as 'first date with Buffy'. I can assure you it took real effort to hide my burgeoning panic attack from Cordelia.

.oOo.

"It's not that big a deal," Willow assured me. "It's just a bunch of people getting together."

"It's a very big deal!" I protested weakly.

"It's not!" she insisted.

"On a scale of one to ten for big deals, this is a six," I assured her. "Giles, back me up here," I demanded of the librarian, who was approaching the library from the other direction.

"I'm afraid it's very big," he said distractedly.

"You don't even know what we're talking about," Willow protested as we went through the doors to the library.

"What _are_ you talking about?" Giles asked in surprise.

"Boys!" Willow exclaimed. I pouted and sulked next to her.

Giles rolled his eyes. "Yes, well, I'm talking about trouble. A violent and disturbing prophecy is about to be fulfilled."

Yay, business! "The Order of Aurelius?" I asked.

"Yes indeed," Giles confirmed. "I've looked at the writings of Aurelius himself, and he," he broke off to pass me a volume so that I could confirm his findings. Or at least I could if I read Latin. "He prophesied that the brethren of his order would come to the Master and bring him the Anointed."

"Who's that?" Willow asked.

"Well, I-I don't know exactly," Giles said. "A-a-a-a warrior, but -"

I frowned. "Giles, I don't suppose you have a copy of the Pergamun Codex? There's supposed to be something an Anointed One in that but I've never managed to get hold of a copy." And unless I was misremembering later events, Giles wouldn't have a copy.

"I'm afraid not," he confirmed. "It was lost in the fifteenth century."

"What's the Pergamun Codex," asked Willow.

"It's reputed to have contained the most complete prophecies about the Slayer's role in the end years," Giles explained.

"So naturally, the Council lost it," I said grimly. "Muppets."

"Be that as it may, according to Aurelius, the Anointed One will rise from the ashes of the Five on the evening of the thousandth day after the Advent of Septus."

I sighed and took my usual perch on the counter. "I don't suppose that the Advent of Septus could be some nice convenient time, like thirty years from now?"

"No Buffy, it was a thousand days ago."

"Figures."

"It can't be tonight!" Willow protested.

Giles looked taken aback. "My calculations are precise."

"They're bad calculations, Giles. Bad!" Willow assured him.

I exchanged puzzled looks with Giles. "While I'll grant that there's not a lot that's good here, Will', why is today bad."

"You have a date with Owen, remember?" she pointed put.

"Hmm, you're right. That Aurelius has good timing."

"Buffy!" Willow wailed.

I shook my head. "Look, Willow. We're talking about a potentially very powerful vampire here. We have only the vaguest of notions where he's going to 'rise from the ashes' and at the same time we _really_ don't want him to reach the Master. Meeting Mr Muscle at the Bronze is dropping from it's already low place on my list of things to do."

Grudgingly, Willow nodded her understanding.

"Right then," I said. "Do we have any information on these Five, Giles?"

.oOo.

Five shall die, and from their ashes the Anointed shall rise.

It wasn't much to go on, so I shall be brief. After a long night of lurking in graveyards (Giles' master plan), checking buses into Sunnydale (based on my 'Slayer Dream' as I pretended to doze off behind a tombstone) we came up with nothing.

Sure I'd seen the episode. Once. Years ago. And just what context is there to where the deed was done?

I did my best. It wasn't enough. We're none of us perfect, you know?

"So you just went home?" Jesse asked incredulously.

"About half an hour before my Mom woke up," I yawned. "Thus my being bright, perky and awake this morning."

"But, if the Anointed One did rise then five people are dead," he protested quietly.

"And in cities across the globe hundreds, if not thousands, of people died violently last night," I said, a little snippily. "Some of them by vampire bites. What do you want of me, Jesse? I can't be everywhere. All I can hope to do is deal with what I can find." I leant forwards and put my forehead against the cool metal of my locker, so that I wouldn't have to meet his gaze with misty eyes.

"Hey, Buffy," came a call.

Oh great, Owen. "Hi," I replied, turning around to look at him. "Sorry I couldn't make it last night. I got called out to look for vampires in the cemetery." I capped this by fluttering my eyebrows outrageously and looking innocent. Jesse went wide-eyed in disbelief.

"Oh?" he said, puzzled, then his eyes cleared. "Oh! Well… did you find any?"

"Not one," I replied cheerfully (a lie, I had staked a stray I happened across but I hadn't told Giles in case we got sidetracked.) "Surprising, isn't it?" I asked in an ironic tone.

"Shocking," he agreed, taking it for a joke. "How 'bout we try it again for tonight?"

"Vampire hunting?" I asked brightly.

"If we can look for them at the Bronze," he grinned.

Over Owen's shoulder, I could see Xander miming retching and Willow almost bouncing up and down with excitement. "Uh, yeah, I guess."

"Great!" Owen beamed. "I'll pick you up at seven?"

"'kay," I shrugged. "See you in math."

Owen nodded and went off to his next class as Xander and Willow joined Jesse and I on the way to English. Jesse still looked pale. "You told him you hunt vampires?" he demanded.

"Jesse, Jesse," I sighed. "The best way to lie is to tell the truth… in such a way that no one believes a word of it."

.oOo.

Willow had come over to 'help me pick an outfit', which was really sweet but not too helpful. I love Willow to bits but she's not a fashion guru. On the other hand, neither am I and I'd already decided what I'd wear. (Long, floaty skirt, white tank top, silk turquoise shirt knotted at the front. It covered everything, which shouldn't encourage Owen – the absolute last thing I wanted to do – but still looked good).

Xander and Jesse ­_didn't_ turn up, which wasn't too surprising as I'd asked them very nicely to help Giles to find out if the Anointed One really had arisen the previous night, which left the male Scoobies neatly holed up in the library where I could contact them with one easy phone call. I never would have thought I'd miss mobile phones but they'd have come in really handy these days.

.oOo.

Now the thing about Owen isn't that he's a guy and, as you may have noticed, I wasn't incredibly sure about this dating a guy thing. That was a problem, small minded as it may make me seem, but it was one I was at least somewhat prepared for.

The problem with Owen is that he is incredibly boring. All he wants to talk about is Emily Dickens. Dickinson. Whatever. I mean, our conversation at the Bronze included such fascinating discussions such as:

Owen: "The thing about Emily Dickinson I love is, is she's just so incredibly morbid. A lot of loss, a lot of death… it gets me. With a lot about bees, for some reason."

Me: "Well morbid's not my thing – life's for living, ya know?"

Eventually, out of sheer desperation, I suggested we go dance. To the rather lame music. Me. Dancing. As you can tell, I was kind of desperate. Fortunately, Cordelia saw us. God, I really don't know what I'd do without her some days.

"Owen!" Cordelia called as she charged up to rescue Owen from my nefarious ways. Maybe I should get her a clue for Christmas. "Look at you here all alone…"

"Cordelia," said Owen patiently, "I'm here with Buffy."

"Oh!" said Cordelia, pretending that she hadn't seen me. "Okay."

"Cordy!" I said, giving her a friendly smile. "When in the world did you get here? Would you like to dance?"

"With Owen?" she said at the same time that Owen said: "Um, but…" and tried to come up with an objection that wouldn't sound whiny and possessive.

"I insist," I insisted and grabbed them both by the arms, dragging them onto the dance floor. Then I stood on tip toes to 'whisper' to Owen: "Be nice to Cordelia – she has trouble getting dates, it's not surprising she sometimes acts a little… you know."

Cordelia had been trying to press herself up against Owen when she heard what I said. Of course, so did about half the people on the dance floor. She didn't seem to know quite what to do – pulling away would mean admitting a loss, but staying close would reinforce the notion I'd just planted that she was, at the least, needy. It's not like she was lacking in feminine wiles, it was that at root she was used to being the social predator and she wasn't having much luck predicting the actions of someone like me, who plays for kicks, not for points.

"Cordelia," I said, taking advantage of her momentary distraction to clasp her free hand between mine. "You _do_ know you can always come to me with your troubles, don't you? Now," I said. "I have to go make a call, but you two have a good time, okay?"

.oOo.

I was feeling pretty good when Giles picked up the phone. "Hi Giles, found anything yet?"

"Your Slayer Dream may have been more accurate than I thought, Buffy," he said without preamble.

"Oh?" I said cautiously.

"Have you seen the newspaper yet? There was an accident yesterday that killed five people, all in the same van. That might have been what you were dreaming."

"'Out of the ashes of five shall rise the one'," I quoted. "Sounds worth investigating."

"Quite," Giles said. "And one of the dead would be a prime candidate for the Anointed One – Andrew Borba, wanted by the police for questioning about a double murder. I know it doesn't quite follow, but…"

"Well, I guess I'd better go check on the remains," I agreed. "Where can I find them?"

"Sunnydale Funeral Home," Giles replied. "Xander and Jesse have gone to take a look."

I blinked and looked at the handset for a moment. "Giles, could you go over that again, I think the line went bad, it sounded as if you just said that Xander and Jesse went to investigate."

"Er, that's right…"

"Jesse, Xander and the Anointed One? Does this sound like a safe idea, Giles?" I asked. "I'd better get over there as fast as possible."

Giles gulped. "Oh dear. Y-yes, you do that Buffy. I, er, I… Buffy? Buffy?" His voice trailed off as he realised that no one was listening to the handset as it hung at the end of it's cord, abandoned as I headed for the door.

.oOo.

Everything seemed quiet as I entered the Funeral Home. The front door wasn't locked, a fact that did absolutely nothing to reassure me. Even in Sunnydale I would have thought that some elementary security measures would be in order.

It took a little trial and error to find anyone, but after a couple of dead ends, I found the morgue itself. And the door to that wasn't locked either. With a grimace I opened the door and stepped inside. It was quite a mess – looked like quite fight. My eyes narrowed as I spotted a crucifix lying on the floor. The room seemed deserted however. "Guys? Are you here?" I asked, watching for any vampires that might be poised to leap out upon me.

One of the body storage lockers slowly slid open, which was kind of spooky until I saw that it was occupied by not only a bagged cadaver but also – "Jesse!"

"Buffy!" he said, sounding relieved. "Xander, it's Buffy!"

Another drawer opened and Xander came into view. "Er… hi Buff'. What's happening?"

"I think that that's my question," I told him, a slight grin crossing my face.

"A couple of those Order of Aurelius bloodsuckers were here," Xander said. "They came after us, but we were more than a match for them."

I raised one eyebrow.

"We hid," Jesse explained, jumping down from his drawer. "They didn't look in these lockers, I guess they knew exactly who they were here for."

"So they may already have the Anointed One?" I asked.

Jesse shrugged. "Giles wasn't sure if they would be taking him somewhere or giving him something. This prophecy stuff seems pretty vague."

I rubbed my eyes. "Okay, did you get a list of who was killed in that car crash?" I asked. "We can check for the bodies – if they're all here then we're on a wild goose chase."

"Sounds like a plan," Xander said, pulling out a folded newspaper cutting. "Do you think they'll have name tags?"

"Usually," I said. "Check the toes."

He looked at the corpse he'd been lying on and spotted the little wire and plastic tag wrapped around one toe. "Oh, right."

We began working methodically along the bank of body drawers. "So," Xander asked. "How did your date with Owen go?"

I shrugged. "I passed him off onto Cordelia when I left, I suppose he's still with her – I don't know who to feel sorrier for."

Xander brightened while Jesse pouted. "Cordelia?" he protested.

"Yeah," I said after a moment's thought. "You're right, sticking her with BeeBoy was a dirty trick – I'll have to make it up to her somehow."

We reached the end of the line and, naturally, that one was empty. Why is it always the last one you check? "The Anointed One must have gone already," Jesse said, sounding a little relieved.

"Wait a minute," Xander said. "Is it me or are we missing two names here?"

I looked at the clipping. "It's not you. And one of them is Giles' prime candidates. I guess they must be keeping at least some of the bodies somewhere else – we'll have to check."

From the far side of the building I heard breaking glass. "Well, that narrows it down," I said dryly. "Okay guys, let's go. And Xander?" I passed him the crucifix he'd dropped earlier. "Keep hold of this, would you?"

.oOo.

I hit the hall running, stake in hand. I hadn't got an exact fix on the location of the broken glass, but whacko boy was making this easy for me, singing some damn fool song about a river. Either he was having mythic visions of rivers of blood or he was out of his skull with something. Perhaps both.

That, of course, wouldn't make things easier. And curse the luck, I wasn't exactly kitted out for combat. The only crucifix I had was on my wrist and the small field kits strapped to my shins with garters, where the skirt hid them, contained only one more stakes, a couple of plastic vials of holy water and two of my improvised napalm incendiaries. I felt almost naked.

And then the singing stopped. Great, now I wouldn't be able to find him so easily.

Pausing just inside one of the rooms I knelt and lifted enough of my skirt to reach under with my free hand and pull out the field kits. Clipping them to the deceptively thin belt around the waist of my skirt made them a little more accessible and made me feel ever so slightly better.

Then I looked up and felt slightly worse as I saw the man standing in front of me. I didn't recognise him, but every ounce of Slayer instinct was screaming VAMPIRE as I looked at him. I guess he'd found me.

"Naughty little girl should not play with her skirt like that," he said in a lecturing tone. I took advantage of the opening and uncoiled upwards, stake aimed for the heart. His reflexes were good however and he batted me aside before the stake made contact with his chest.

I hadn't been hit like that since I fought Luke and bouncing off the wall like that didn't help. My vision dimmed for a moment and I shook my head to clear it, barely hanging onto the stake in my hand.

Before I could do more than that, the vampire had hold of me and heaved me into the air above his head. "They told me about you while I was sleeping," he told me.

"Did they tell you I cheat a lot?" I asked and plucked a vial of holy water from my belt, flicking the end open with my thumb to pour the contents into his face. Understandably he screamed and let go of me to cover his face with his hands. I more or less bounced off him and to the floor, rolling a short distance and then scrambling to my feet, without my belt kits sadly, the hooks hadn't been up to the punishment.

He grunted painfully, fingers smoking as he brushed the water off his face. "Why do you hurt me?" he demanded. It looked like one of his eyes was out of commission, pity I hadn't gotten both of them.

I kicked him in the gut, knocking him into a wheeled table that was virtually covered with sharp objects, probably surgical tools for autopsies and the like. He ripped his back to shreds when he went over it but came back to his feet without any sign of pain. I caught hold of the table and drove the end into his gut, which did cause a pained expression to cross his face. Then I lifted the table and smashed his face, sending sharp metal cascading to the floor, some of it bloodied by his face and shoulders.

If he'd been human, I'm pretty sure that I'd just have done respectable damage to his will to keep fighting. Of course, this guy was a vampire and judging by the police's interest in him, he wasn't all that passive back when he was alive. This was demonstrated when he didn't even fall over after taking the table to his face, merely staggering back a little.

This, perhaps unfortunately, was the point when Xander and Jesse arrived. Seeing him bloodied and staggering, they jumped to the assumption that he was going down and as Jesse came through the door, he shouted "Geronimo!" before jabbing clumsily at the vampire with a stake. This of course led to his getting slapped away and then thrown halfway across the room. At me.

Now I could have dodged, I suppose, but that would have been rather a bad landing so I took a moment to catch Jesse and throw him towards Xander, ever so slightly less forcefully that Bloody Andy had done. On the plus side, this sent Xander staggering backwards out of the room, with Jesse on top of him. On the negative side, it put me off guard when the vampire followed up into me.

We staggered backwards, his hands around my neck and my hand against his chin the only thing that was keeping his teeth out of my precious flesh. My other hand, reaching for an weapon, any weapon, closed on a funeral urn, of the kind used for the ashes of the dearly departed, which made a satisfying clonk as I cracked him over the head with it.

"You will die!" he snarled, reeling backwards, off-balance.

"I'm too pretty to die," I told him and dived at a piece of floor that had one of my incendiary little friends on it. One hand scooped it up while the other propelled me into a somersault of what would have been Olympic quality if I'd had a little more room. Instead I had to shorten the landing and kick off from the wall in order to meet his charge with my own.

I ducked under his arms and his momentum took his solar plexus right into my fist, which left him gasping in pain because dead or not those are real nerves there, buddy, and crushed the little bit of tubing inside my fist, beginning the short countdown to ignition. Since his mouth was conveniently open, I used two fingers to push it into his throat and once he started trying to claw at his mouth to get it out of him, clobbered him over the head with the table until he turned into ashes.

Naturally, he did this when I was in mid-swing and got spun around when the table failed to connect with anything. Plus the dust got me coughing.

Great. I looked like an ass, I was choking to death on vampire remains and my outfit was ruined…

Oh, I did NOT just think that. I did not just worry about my clothes. It's against the whole code of being a guy, even if I am technically one of the girls now.

.oOo.

"I'm, er, sorry about your date," Giles lied the next morning. I wasn't exactly my usual chipper self – the Anointed One had been grabbed, a bunch of people were dead and a kid got vampired. I hadn't exactly been covering myself with glory lately.

"Eh," I shrugged. "No big." Cordy had apparently been a virtual limpet and Owen was blaming me for sticking him with her all night. Some people, you know, are just so inconvenient like that.

"Well, at least you did stop the prophecy from succeeding," Giles offered. "No more Anointed One – the Master, wherever he is, must be having a fairly bad day."

I sighed. "Uh, that's sort of the bad news," I began.

.oOo.

I sat on the roof of the Bronze wondering why this shit had never appeared in an actual episode. I could think of two major theories – one, that it had occurred but been scuppered in the early stages by one of the variety of jealous males that surrounded Buffy – but this time the bloke was gone; or two, that it hadn't and that I'd changed things rather too well.

"You know," said the incubus, a puzzled expression on his oh-so-handsome face. "I don't usually have this sort of difficulty with teenagers. I mean, I can tell that you're right – you wouldn't have fallen for Maria's plan in a million years – but you're a teenage girl. Weren't you just a little distracted?"

The incubus (whose name was Leathaall, I believe) had been part of a too-complicated scheme on the part of some daft adept of an outfit called the Order of the Cold Flame. Apparently one of my predecessors had done them a serious amount of damage in Calcutta a few years back and this one had decided to piss off the Watchers by stealing the _current_ Slayer to help them rebuild (or possibly just to put her in charge of a rebuilt Order, I'm not too clear on the latter).

The plan came a cropper when Leathaall (he was going by Lee actually) didn't manage to distract me from a couple of occult tomes on the shelves at the adept's apartment, which led to a short encounter with a golem and an abruptly terminated conversation with Maria that involved some broken mirrors (my kingdom for some good karma, my kingdom for some good karma) and a fairly weak bluff on my part involving the uses of broken glass for torture. The conversation was cut short when the adept (Maria) cut her own throat rather than face off against me. Do I have that sort of reputation or something? I suppose it's a good thing she didn't know just how inept any torture would be on my part.

"I'm the Slayer," I told Lee calmly. "I'm sixteen on the outside but in here," I tapped the side of my head, "I feel more like I'm twenty-six. So… what now?"

Lee looked embarrassed. "Well, what you said about being sixteen on the outside, I'm kind of liking it. I could keep doing that if you were my mistress."

"I wish I didn't believe you meant that."

"You wouldn't have to keep raiding vampire nests for their money. Or patrolling on your own. I could help with that," he offered. "I can cook. And I'm better than a real boy in bed."

"I bet," I said mildly, vaguely embarrassed. There's something creepy about a demon who's racially a man-whore.

"Or just for kissing. I wouldn't want to rush you," he back-pedalled, probably misinterpreting my embarrassment.

"Oh. Right. Thanks," I replied dryly.

"You're not mad at me, are you? About the stuff I did when I was Maria's?"

"No," I said thoughtfully. "So… what do I have to do before I'm officially your new, um, mistress?"

"Well you've already got my box," Lee said, nodding at the shoebox shaped box I'd salvaged out of Maria's stuff, along with a couple of books I'd give to Giles. "And I told you my real name. So all you have to do is tell me what to do."

"Hmm." I considered that. "Okay. Leathaall, I command you to leave Sunnydale and never return. Beyond that… well, have some fun, do what you want. Just don't go hurting people, 'kay?"

"But -"

"Lee, I have trouble picking out what shoes to wear in the morning. The last thing I'm qualified to do is run someone else's life."


	10. Angel or Demon

A/N

Disclaimer: Buffy is Mutant Enemy's. I am neither a Mutant, nor an Enemy (except of mobile phones everywhere).

Well, after several busy months, I've been prodded into continuing with this. Sorry to all my loyal readers for the delay.

.oOo.

"Oh look," I heard from ahead of me as I walked through the zoo. "It's Buffy and all her friends."

I looked up and recognised Kyle and his pack of 'friends'. My lips curled in an amused smile. "Wow Kyle, a two-syllable word – a plural even! You're making good progress – reading without moving your lips could be in your future," I told him enthusiastically."

"Do you ever wonder why nobody cool wants to hang out with you?" sneered Tor.

"There's someone cool in Sunnydale besides me?" I asked sweetly. "Where? Under some damp rock?"

They all glared at me. "Were you this popular at your old school?" asked Rhonda as they began to leave. "Before you got kicked out."

I chuckled. "Sweetheart, you have _no_ idea."

.oOo.

I'd moved on to watching the elephants in a desultory fashion when Xander and Willow caught up with me.

"Hey! Buffy!" called Xander.

"You missed it!" bubbled Willow.

I laughed and picked her up by her elbows and spun her around. "Hey there, laughing girl," I chuckled. "So what did I miss?"

"We just saw the zebras mating!" Xander explained with a nod to Willow. "Thank you, very exciting..."

"It was like the Heimlich, with stripes!" Willow added, still in my arms. I put her down and linked one arm with hers, letting Xander grab my other arm as we walked along. "Where were you?"

"I was thinking of visiting the chimpanzees," I said airily, "But then I ran into Kyle and his pals and realised that I see them every day."

Xander chuckled. "Nice to see you're getting into the field trip spirit," he said.

"Well, being out of class isn't quite as big a thing for me and Willow as it is for you and Jesse," I pointed out. "But it does make a nice change. Right, Wills'?"

"Yeah," she said brightly. "It's cool. Can we see the fishes next?"

"I guess." I paused. "Have either of you guys seen Jesse around?"

"He said something about going to see the Hyena House," Xander said.

I frowned. "Thought that it was closed."

"It is," said Jesse, coming around the corner. "Burnt to the ground two nights ago, according to the zoo keeper I asked. He was pretty cut up about it – the Hyenas were inside at the time."

.oOo.

Well, no hyena thing, so far as I could tell. I was turning into a regular little pyromaniac (hopefully I'd covered my tracks, since adding an occupied zoo pen to the gym that was already on my permanent record would probably get me locked away) as I averted some of these little crises that develop in Sunnydale. After the whole Anointed One fuck-up, I had gone proactive about a few things and I certainly wasn't going to let that Hyena-possession thing happen.

Of course, not even I could avert the rain that condemned us to dodgeball the next day. God, Giles is right about Americans! One little drop of rain and they lock us inside. I played football in worse than this when I was a kid – of course, we got a fair bit more rain there than we do here in Southern California…

.oOo.

"Ah, the fumigation party," Willow said as we sat at a table in the Bronze.

"Huh?" I asked in confusion, then looked at her. "Did that girl just pay for a drink with a cockroach?"

"Yeah, it's an annual tradition. The closing of the Bronze for a few days to nuke the cockroaches?"

"What? Is this some Hellmouth thing?" I asked, confused. The Bronze was selling drinks, and thus open, so…

"No, it's a fun thing…" Willow assured me. "So how are things with you?"

I shrugged. "Getting by. Just thinking about a couple of things."

Willow smiled. "So, we're talking about a guy?" she guessed.

"Guy? Uh, why would we be talking about a guy? _What_ guy for that matter?"

"Aw c'mon," she wheedled. "There's gotta be some guy on your mind."

"The only guy 'on my mind'," I said, miming the speechmarks with both hands, "is that Angel character. And Xander's paranoia aside, I'm not thinking of him that way and I seriously doubt he likes me."

"He's kind of cute though, isn't he?" she asked.

"In a gay kind of way," I said dryly. "And it's not like I've seen him around much, just lurking around the shadows every now and then."

Willow nodded, "He's not around much, it's true."

"So, do you have some guy on your mind?" I asked.

"Uh, well…" she muttered, evasively.

"Oh?" I asked.

"Boy, that Cordelia is a regular breath of vile air," Xander interrupted as he arrived from the dance floor. "What are you vixens up to?"

"Just sitting here," Willow told him. "Watching our barren lives pass us by." She looked down brightened: "Oh look, a cockroach." She stomped her foot on the floor, and presumably the roach as well. Willow the Cockroach Slayer. Now there's a show that _belongs_ on TV.

"Whoa, well let's stop this crazy whirligig of fun! I'm dizzy!" Xander proclaimed.

I grinned and shook my head. "I guess you're right. Let's call it a night. I'll run a quick patrol and go home. I could do with a good night's sleep."

"Oh, don't go!" protested Willow.

"Uh, yeah!" Xander agreed. "It's early! We could, um, dance!"

I snorted. "Xander, I'm wearing steel toe-caps and Giles is not impressed with my footwork. If we dance you're going to need an ambulance."

"You dance with Giles?" asked Jesse as he arrived.

"We fence," I replied tersely.

.oOo.

I had an odd feeling that someone was watching me as I left the Bronze. I couldn't see anyone, but I was sure somehow that there were eyes on me. Maybe hostile, maybe not. I just wasn't sure. It probably didn't help that I was fairly sure that I was just about due for the monthly visitor, which frankly was a disgusting experience that I tried to repress the memory of as much as I could manage.

I was disturbed enough by that that I turned the patrol into simply taking a somewhat circuitous route home. Naturally, my life being what it was, I didn't get that far before I was interrupted. In this case, interrupted by heavy breathing from inside an alleyway.

"It's late, I'm having a bad day. If there's anything more sinister than a BJ going on there, get your ass out here so I can kick it," I snapped.

Almost immediately a large and formidable vampire jumped out at me, roaring as if exhaling was about to go out of fashion, and I prepared to vent my self-righteous anger upon it. Bokken go up, bokken go –

Oh, there was another vampire. Don't I feel special. Particularly when it's stopping me from completing his buddy's resemblance to a kebab. I pulled away before imminent dust bag number two could get hold of me and promptly found myself backing into a third. "Crap," I said as he caught my elbows and neatly restricted my arm movements.

Okay, enough of this playing fair shit. I put just enough weight onto the vampire behind me to let be raise my foot and put the toe of one of my Doc Martens into the groin of one of vampire number two. The combination of the impact and the fact that there was a discreet little cross scratched into the front of the toe cap put him off his game for a moment – the expression on his face suggested I was officially not on his Christmas card list any more.

Then I put my foot down on Mr Huggy behind me – heel first and hard just in front of the ankle, grinding the boot as I felt the bones break beneath it. The vampire impressed me – there was a slight hiss but his grip didn't falter. I'd have settled for being less impressed and more not grabbed, but no one ever asks my opinion on these things.

Vampire Numeros Unos was still at liberty to get in close and try to open up my throat for a quick quaff of blood, but fortunately for me, a certain broody vampire turned up out of nowhere, grabbed him by the hair and yanked him brutally backwards. "Good dogs," he advised, punctuating with a punch, "don't bite!"

The surprise of this arrival led to my captor's grip loosening a little more, just enough for me get and arm up inside my jacket and pull a baggie of holy water out of the inside pocket. Then I crushed it against the still gripping hand until the plastic bag burst and he shrieked and released me, the back of his hand practically on fire.

The next couple of minutes were pretty much a blur – and it takes a moderately impressive amount of mayhem to overload a Slayer's tactical awareness, I've noticed. I distinctly remember kicking one of the vampires several times in the face, scorching repeated crucifixes into his face before one of his buddies distracted me. However, all good things come to an end and in this case, Angel and I, completely by coincidence, managed to throw one each of the vampires through the same window at the same moment.

We paused, stared at each other, and then, reluctantly, I started to giggle at the startled looks we'd been shooting at each other.

The remaining vampire popped up, hesitated at the sight of a hysterical Slayer and caught my stake somewhere around his heart. Dusted.

This, of course, meant more laughter on my part, and even a bemused chuckle from Deadboy.

.oOo.

"No offence," I told Angel when we reached that little house that the Clan Summers calls home, "But if you want me to bandage that –" (He'd managed to get gashed along one side and was bleeding a little) "- then it's happening on the porch. For one thing, I don't want to explain to Mom why there's blood on her carpets."

"I'd appreciate it," Angel answered, sitting on the steps looking a little weary.

"For another thing, we'd probably wake the baby of the house," I added as I opened the door and fished around for the medical kit I'd stashed under the coat rack. I didn't fancy having to dig around the kitchen for it if I was in a hurry so I'd made sure it was readily available. "She's just about ready for her first crush and I'd rather it wasn't a vampire. You're pretty and all that; but the whole drinking blood thing? Mom would _kill_ me if she went Goth on us."

That didn't get a laugh, but then I guess he would be a bit of a tough audience.

"Right," I told him. "Shirt, off."

"Uh…" he said hesitantly.

I narrowed my eyes and he sort of pointed without obviously pointing to where Joyce had just disembarked from her SUV and had apparently heard my instruction to him. At least, that's how I interpreted the rather shocked expression on her face.

"Hi Mom!" I said chirpily. "Busy day at work?"

"You… have no idea," she said slowly. "Buffy, what are you doing?"

I shrugged and held up a length of gauze. "Angelo here, scratched himself on a fence," I lied blithely, inventing a pseudonym for the vampire off the top of my head. "And since he's too macho to go to hospital for a little thing like what looked like barbed wire, I'm going to bandage him. Which I can't do if you don't take your shirt off," I added to Angel who looked like he wanted to sink into the ground. I'm pretty sure that isn't part of his vampire powers package TM though. "Or just bunch it up under your armpits if it helps you retain your masculine dignity."

Rather grudgingly, he took off his jacket, hung it over the side of the porch and rolled up his T-shirt until I could look at the injury. It had already stopped bleeding, probably because he didn't exactly have a pulse to keep pushing blood through whatever arteries and veins had been damaged. "Hmm, not too bad, I suppose," I said, setting down the gauze and reaching for a daub.

"Oh really?" Joyce said just a little challengingly. She was mostly giving me suspicious looks, although she did shoot a couple of looks at Angel that weren't anywhere near his face. I really don't want to think about that.

"Not even bleeding anymore," I explained. "What did you think I was talking about?"

She shrugged and went inside. Angel winced as I cleaned out the wound and covered up the wound as best my rather rudimentary medical skills allowed. I guess I must have taped it up a little tight. "That okay?" I asked.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Thanks."

"Do you need a lift home?" Joyce asked from inside. She'd poured herself a coffee while I was packing up the medical kit again and was watching us over it.

"No," Angel blurted. "I, uh, live nearby."

"Well be careful on your way," Joyce said. "It's a little late to be out."

"I'll head right back," he promised quickly, picking up his jacket.

"Try not to walk into any more fences!" I called as he walked away, head low and shoulders hunched defensively. He didn't reply.

"Is he a friend of yours?" Joyce asked once Angel was out of human earshot.

I shrugged. "I don't know him all that well. But I wasn't gonna leave him bleeding in the streets or anything."

"Hmmm," she hmmed, in that way that mothers do. "Well, it's a little late. I'm gonna go to bed, uh, Buffy?" she added as she started up the stairs.

"Yes?" I asked innocently as I closed up the medical kit and packed it away.

"Isn't it a school night?"

"My goodness, so it is," I told her. "I really should keep track of that – school on Mondays through Friday. How _do_ I keep forgetting that." I grinned at her withering look. "I'll be off to bed once I've cleaned up," I promised.

.oOo.

"He took off his shirt?" Xander queried the next day, as I was… well I suppose it's technically a debriefing although it felt like the unexpected Xander Inquisition, whose weapons are fear, ignorance and an obsessive relationship with Twinkies. "At your house? In front of you?"

I rolled my eyes. "Not _in_ my house. On the porch. And he didn't take it off, he just pulled it up so I could get at the injured bit of him."

"And he got hurt fighting the vampires with you," Willow gushed. I had a horrible feeling that she was trying to experience romance vicariously through hooking me up with someone and since I'd gotten rid of Owen, she was now trying to get me together with Angel. "That is so romantic!"

"Buffy, c'mon," Xander protested. "wake up and smell the seduction. It's the oldest trick in the books."

"If getting slashed across the robs is the original human chat up line, I'm surprised there are so many of us," I replied.

"He does have a point," Jesse observed a little reluctantly. "Some guys'll do anything to impress a girl." He smirked. "Xander once drank an entire gallon of Gatorade in one go."

"It was pretty impressive," Willow allowed. "Although later…"

Jesse mimed retching and I chuckled at the look on Xander's face.

"Can we steer this riveting conversation back to the events that happened yesterday evening?" Giles asked plaintively. I leant back in my chair and gave him my attention. "You left the Bronze and were set upon by three unusually virile vampires."

He opened a book and made to hold it in front of me but I held up my had, palm out in a command to stop. "Vi-rile? Virile? Giles, I'm not into necrophilia."

"Uh," he began and put down the book to polish his glasses. "A poor choice of words perhaps."

"I'll say," I muttered, glancing at a red-faced Willow. "So what's in the book?"

"Did they look like this?" Giles asked, holding the book open to display a picture.

"That's them," I confirmed, after squinting at the picture a little. "What's with the costumes?"

"It seems you encountered the Three," Giles said, soundly slightly surprised. "Warrior vampires, very proud and very strong."

"They were the Three? I was expecting them to be taller," I said. "If I ever came across them I mean."

"How is it you always know this stuff?" Willow asked Giles. "You always know what's going on. I never know what's going on."

"Well you weren't here from midnight until six researching it," he explained reasonably.

"No, I was sleeping," Willow admitted as if that was something to be ashamed of.

Giles turned back to me. "Uh, o-obviously you're hurting the Master very much. He, he wouldn't send the, the Three for just anyone. We must step up our training with weapons."

"Buffy," Xander said, a serious look on his face. "You should stay at my house until these Samurai guys are history."

"And leave Mom and Dawn alone and unprotected?" I asked, pointing out the critical flaw in his plan.

"Ah…" he mused and held one finger up to indicate he was still thinking.

"Angel and Buffy are, are not in any immediate jeopardy," Giles announced, driving a metaphorical stake through Xander's plans. "Eventually the Master will send someone else, but in the mean time the Three, having failed, will offer their own lives in penance."

oOo.

Well, after that bright little bit of news (vampires killing each other makes my life so much easier), we got down to my regular pummelling of Giles, otherwise known as combat training.

"Ah ha," I told him as I saw what I was looking for at the back of the weapons cabinet. "I knew you were hiding these someplace." I brandished the crossbow triumphantly. "Vital slaying skill, marksmanship – not much room in here but I suppose we can make do. Do you have any targets?"

"The crossbow comes later," Giles said, taking the crossbow from me and returning it to the cabinet. I tried not to pout. It's not manly to pout, even if I am a girl at the moment. "You must first become proficient with the basic tools of combat."

"Me?" I said with a smile. "Who said anything about me learning to use the crossbow?"

Giles blinked, halting with two poles – quarterstaffs presumably - in his hands. "But you said..."

"I was thinking we could teach the boys to use them."

"Um, I don't think that that's a good idea," he said, obviously horrified at the thought of spending the time with two _more_ teenaged Americans.

"Well I'm not ecstatic about them trying to wrestle with vampires," I pointed out. "Since they aren't gifted with supernatural strength, speed _et al_, I'd really rather have them fight at a distance. And you've already lost the fight about keeping them out of... the fight."

"T-that's not a bad idea," Giles admitted. "I'll see if I can find somewhere with more space for them to learn though. And with that said, let's move on to your training. We'll begin with the quarterstaff. Which," he added, "will require countless hours of vigorous training. I speak from experience."

I caught the pole he threw me and laughed. "You'd better put on some pads, Friar Tuck, or I'll be carrying you to hospital before we manage even one hour of vigorous training."

"We'll see about that," he snorted and raised his own staff. "En garde!"

Ten seconds later he skidded on his back across the polished floor and came to rest with his head about an inch short of a painful collision with one of the bookcases. He stared up at me, over at where his quarterstaff was rolling gently towards the doors, and then up again. "Pads, right. One moment please."

Have I mentioned that I like Giles?

.oOo.

"There is something else," I said quietly as I helped a rather battered Giles out of his pads about an hour later.

"Oh?" he said, giving me a quizzical look. "Something you didn't want to mention in front of the others?"

"Yes," I said simply and waited until he had seated himself at the library table. "Angel has no pulse."

He paled. "No pulse… Buffy, have you ever encountered him during the day?"

"Not once," I replied evenly. "It's not proof, of course, but it's not something I was expecting to find out. And if it is true, then I have to wonder…"

"Why was he helping you?"

"Yes," Giles nodded. "C-could it have been some part of the Master's plan? Or is he masterminding something himself?"

"Is it possible," I asked seriously, "That he's on the level? He seemed pretty genuine about not liking other vampires. Maybe he views it as a curse or something."

The Watcher shook his head. "Buffy, a vampire isn't a person at all. It may have the movements, the, the memories, even the personality of the person that it took over, but i-it's still a demon at the core, and a demon would hardly regret becoming a monster."

"It's possible," I said, "that we're jumping to conclusions. But obviously we have to take precautions, war the others that Angel may not be as friendly as he appears. I guess I just wanted to get a second opinion. Sorry to drop it on you like that."

"No, no," Giles insisted. "I'm your Watcher. It's my responsibility to help you with this sort of thing."

I'd honestly felt a bit bad about manipulating him like this until he came out with that. That bit where I said I liked him? Doesn't apply all the time.

.oOo.

Surprisingly, the others took my suspicions fairly equably. Xander, who'd originally been pretty anti-Angel as I recall (my powers of understatement are developing nicely, thank you for noticing) was much less determined that Angel should be staked at the soonest opportunity than I had expected him to be. Since none of them had even spoke to him, they were all content to keep their distance until we established exactly what was going on.

It was Jesse who was the most direct as we cracked the books to try to find a record of Angel. "Buffy, if Angel is a vampire… well, you're the Slayer. It's pretty obvious where that leads. Are you going to be okay with that?"

I rubbed my eyes. "I'm not going to jump to conclusions about his loyalties, but if he's a threat then he dies. I'm sorry to be harsh here, but if one of you got turned, I'd have an obligation to make sure that you didn't use what the vampire created knew against the rest of us, wouldn't I?"

"You mean," Willow mumbled. "If I was a vampire…"

"If you died and your corpse rose as a vampire, then I would destroy the demon inside it," I said flatly. "If Angel is a threat then I shall have to kill him. I won't say that I have no qualms, but my duty is to the living."

"Ah," Giles announced from behind Xander, startling him. "Here's something at last."

"Can you please warn us before you do that?" Xander complained, turning around in his seat.

Giles ignored him. "There's nothing about Angel in the texts, but it suddenly occurred to me that it's been ages since I've read the diaries of any of the watchers before me."

"And you have something?" I asked, guessing that he was probably on the money.

"There's mention some two hundred years ago in Ireland of, of Angelus, the one with the angelic face."

And Giles makes the required connections. Excellent. "He's not _that_ good looking," I protested. Then I pretended to think about it. "Well, if you like that type maybe… his accent _could_ be Irish, I suppose."

"Does this, uh, Angel have, um, a tattoo behind his right shoulder?" Giles asked.

"Is that a trick question to find out if I've seen him with his shirt _completely_ off?" I countered. "Seriously, how would I know? Don't you have more of a description?"

"Unfortunately not," Giles admitted. "There are relatively few survivors of his, uh, activities. We know he had dark hair, but that is about as much as I've been able to determine."

"So, Angel's been around for a while?" Willow asked.

"Not long for a vampire," Giles lectured. "Uh, two hundred and forty years or so, if we have identified him correctly." He paused and consulted the diary. "Angelus leaves Ireland, uh, wreaks havoc in, in Europe for, uh, several decades, and then, um, about eighty years ago, the most curious thing happens. He, he comes to, uh, to America, um, shuns other vampires, and, and lives alone. There's, there's no, no record of him hunting here."

"W-well that's good," Willow proposed nervously. "I mean, he _is_ a good vampire? Instead of, uh, killing and maiming every night, he's…. not?"

"I said that there's no record," Giles corrected. "But, uh, vampires hunt and kill. It's, it's what they do."

"And before he came to America?" I asked. "When he was in Europe and 'wreaking havoc', what was he like then according to the diary?"

Giles shook his head. "Uh, like all of them. Uh, a vicious, violent animal."

.oOo.

I moved my planned study session with Willow to my house that night, rather than hers as we had originally intended. However, there was no attack by Darla, which left me rather at a loss. I'd only ever seen the first half of this episode so I wasn't quite sure how matters turned out. But I was sure I'd seen Darla turn up on the Summers doorstep.

And yet, nothing happened.

I suppose that I'd been a little too optimistic about how long I could rely on things going the same way that they did on the show. I'd changed things and I could no longer rely on them to stay the same.

Apart from patrolling and school I barely left the house for the next week, watching over Dawn as best I could and wondering if Joyce would come home each night. I rearranged roleplay nights to happen at home and Giles came by to join in – his way of trying to stay in touch with me I guess. Even Dawn sat in, so I suppose that something good would come of it if I could corrupt her into a roleplayer.

But there were no sightings of Angel or Darla by the Post-Fumigation Party at the Bronze, which Jesse and Xander almost manhandled me out of the house to attend, with Willow's connivance. The less said about the party the better, but they were probably right – I needed to relax.

How far could I afford to though?


End file.
